


Sonata in G, Mvt I

by Cantoris



Series: Sonata in G [1]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Family Drama, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Growing Up, Teenage Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2018-02-09 11:23:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 39,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1981065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cantoris/pseuds/Cantoris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of Rachel Gideon, daughter of Sarah Jacobs and Jason Gideon. With a life filled with school, friends, and music, she must also face the difficulties of an FBI profiler father and all its consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Exposition

Sonata-A specific musical form where each movement differs in tempo, rhythm, and harmony but is held together by a common theme or subject

Exposition-the first section of a movement written in sonata form, introducing the melodies and themes

"Why did I have to choose the bass clarinet again?" my best friend, Alicia, demanded. "This case is as big as I am."

"Mr. Hoover wanted one of you clarinets to switch and you had the best tone on trials," I reminded her.

It was a funny sight. We were in eighth grade and where I was five foot five and could carry my flute case on a single finger, Alicia was only five foot one and hauled her bass clarinet around like a conjoined twin.

We were waiting outside of the band room for our parents to pick us up along with all the other kids involved in the spring musical. Rehearsal had let out ten minutes ago and with nearly half of the school involved in Bugsy Malone, the parking lot was packed.

"I have a doctor's appointment, my mom can't be late," Alicia moaned. "Urhg, she probably had to deal with Evan again. He's such a dweeb."

"At least you have a sibling around," I commented. It was an old argument of ours. I had siblings, technically, but they were all a lot older than me and half-brothers. I hardly ever saw them so it was like I was an only child. I didn't really remember John since he was at college before I was in kindergarten and both Scott and Alan were gone the same way by the time I got to third grade. That's about when Mom moved us to Virginia to be closer to my dad. His son, Stephen, I've never met.

"Yeah, well, I wish I were like you. Oh, there she is, gotta go, see you tomorrow!"

Alicia went flying through the other cars, bass clarinet case bouncing with her.

I was left waiting for my mom who had promised she would leave her shift at the hospital on time to pick me up. Go figure, she was turning into my dad. My dad, the FBI agent, who wasn't home half the time and distracted half the time he was around. Everyone always thought it was so cool, whenever they found out what my dad did. It almost made up for the fact that my parents aren't married which always gets me looks. Not like they had been married and divorced, but they had never even bothered to get married even after I had been born.

Whatever. I spend a lot of time at home by myself which is cool. Not like I throw wild parties or anything and Mom always asks our neighbor, Mrs. Rectoris, to check on me, but I'll eat popcorn and ice cream for dinner. I can practice for hours without anyone complaining or commenting and neither of them are around to yell at me when I let my cat Hannah up on the counter to lick my bowls and plates before putting them in the dishwasher.

"Rachel! Over here!"

I looked up and my jaw dropped. Dad was there, in his huge black SUV, waiting next to the open door. Next to him was a tall, skinny guy who looked like he was a college student and a really nerdy one at that. Great, Dad had brought along his little rookie for dinner.

I shifted my back pack to my other shoulder and gripped my flute case tighter. Dad only came over for dinners on weeknights at random. He has his own apartment even though he's with Mom and me half the time he isn't working. Dad told me once it's so that he doesn't disturb us when he comes in late or leaves early since his cases can call him in 24/7.

"Where's Mom?" I asked, slipping into the back seat. I could see Dad shake his head as he got into the driver seat and Reid the rookie get in next to him.

"Sonia at work is sick so your Mom is covering her shift for a few hours."

"Did she say when she'll home?"

"It'll be late tonight. I'll stay until she gets home."

"You don't have to, you know," I protested. "I'm a big girl, I can stay home alone for a few hours."

"I want to, Rachel."

"Fine, whatever," I muttered. I pulled my iPod out of my back pack and stuck the headphones in my ears, cuing up Bach's Brandenburg Concerto No. Five.

Dad parked in the driveway at home and I beat him to the front door with my key. He and Reid looked at each other behind my back, but I saw them in the window's reflection. Reid is only, like, twenty years old, but Dad recruited him to the FBI almost a year ago. He's this super genius and has three doctorates already but he's really dumb when it comes to normal stuff. Mom says I'm too harsh on him, and he's okay, really, but I always feel like Dad wishes that Reid was his kid and not me.

"How much homework do you have?" Dad asked before I could escape to my bedroom.

"History reading, algebra worksheet, French vocabulary, and write a paper for English," I rattled off. My math homework was half done already, I didn't need to study French any more, I could always read history in my study hall the next day and I just needed a rough draft for the paper. But I like to tell my dad I have more than I do so that I get some space.

"Okay. Want to help me make dinner later?"

I stopped and finally really faced my dad for the first time that day. I sighed and bit my lip, knowing that for all that he did to annoy me, it was mostly accidental and he did love me.

"Can we make tacos?" I asked, smiling.

"Oo, with that fresh guacamole?" Reid asked excitedly. He's been over for dinner a lot.

Dad beamed at both of us and I almost felt like Reid might as well be another adult brother for me. "Whatever you want, sweetie."

"Okay."

I left Dad and Reid at the dining room table, pulling out the chessboard. For all he was genius boy, Reid can't beat my dad. Well, I can't either, even though Dad's been teaching me since I was five. Dad's not like most parents; he's never let me win.

I camped out on the living room couch, with only one ear bud in, and tackled geometry first. Mom hated when I did homework away from my desk, but Dad never commented. When I made it through my history chapters, I spoke up.

"Hey, Dad. Do you know why the French soldiers would cut off the index and middle fingers of the English archers they captured?"

"The English archers were the best of Europe during the medieval era," Reid said without looking up from his chess pieces. "With those particular fingers cut off, the archers couldn't draw their bows any more. It's actually the origin of our hand gesture with the middle finger. The English archers on the field would show off their intact fingers at the French to antagonize them."

Reid finally looked up when Dad and I sat in silence. I kept my face blank as he looked back and forth between us. "Uh, sorry," he stammered. He was always so easy to ruffle.

I laughed until Reid and Dad smiled. Secretly, I loved it when Reid would suddenly babble about anything, whether it was related to the current conversation or not.

"Reid, can I name you in my bibliography instead of Wikipedia?" I asked.

"Well, there is a direct interview model for APA, MLA, and Chicago based bibliographies," Reid started.

"Reid, she was joking," Dad interrupted.

"Sort of," I added. Reid probably knew more than Wikipedia and was more accurate.

"Any way, getting hungry yet?" Dad asked.

I closed my text book with a definitive thump and jumped to my feet, racing my dad for the kitchen; he was putting one of his CD's into the sound system. He kept a record player and vinyl discs at his own apartment. I grabbed the avocados, tomato, onion, lime and cilantro while Dad started with the ground beef. Reid followed us and watched, handing me kitchen tools when I asked.

Dad taught me to cook as early as he taught me chess. Mom hardly has time or energy, especially now that she's in charge of a new treatment center for cancer patients, but Dad sees it as relaxing. Dad would put an apron on me and lift me up on a chair so I could see over the counter. I learned how to mix, stir, measure, dice, chop and sauté until I was almost as good as he is. When Dad and I are cooking together, that's when we're at our best.

And because I love it when I know how to do something Reid doesn't, I explained what I was doing as I was doing it, like I was his teacher.

"See, if you cut the avocado in a cross-hatch pattern while it's still in its skin, then all you have to do is squeeze it out and it's practically mashed up already."

Reid always seems to enjoy it, too, even though he's being schooled by a fourteen year old. He handed me the microplane next while I told him to cut the tomato into a fine dice. I squirted the lime juice over the avocado so it wouldn't brown.

"Come taste this, Rae."

I left Reid to mix up the guacamole and took the spoon Dad offered me.

"More chili pepper and salt," I told him. "My tongue isn't even twitching yet."

I practically heard Reid gulp behind me. I like things spicy.

Dinner was actually kind of nice. Dad and Reid talked about the other agents they worked with without ever talking about their cases. Dad never talked about cases around me and not all that often with Mom. He always wants to separate work and family, except for bringing Reid over.

I told them about my classes and band practice. With Dad being tightlipped about his work and Mom always worried about doctor-patient confidentiality, I've gotten really good at stretching out my own stories to fill the empty silence. And since I don't see Dad every day, there's more to talk about.

Dad and Reid cleaned up while I took the rest of my homework to my bedroom. I was fleshing out my paper outline when Dad came into my room.

"I'm going to drive Reid home and then I'll be back until your mom comes home, okay?

"Really, Dad. I'm fourteen years old, I think I can spend a few hours on my own," I pointed out. But Dad just kissed me on the forehead and repeated, "I'll be back."

I rolled my eyes at his back and then shouted good bye to Reid. Once they were gone, my cat Hannah finally crawled out from under my bed. Hannah is a gray tabby cat that Mom bought for me as a bribe when we moved six years ago. She said it was just as much because of the job offer at the hospital to be the head for the new treatment center, but why else would she have been looking in the DC and Virginia area if she hadn't wanted to be closer to Dad?

Hannah is really shy and hides whenever it's more than just me and Mom around. How she knows it's safe, I have no idea, but she's always happy to leap into my lap and cuddle whenever she can. I grabbed a Tamora Pierce book and settled in until Dad and Mom got back.

I woke up when Mom came in to kiss me good night.

"Where's Dad?" I asked, still half asleep. I didn't remember hearing him come in.

I couldn't see Mom's face since she had already taken my book away and turned off the light. "He got called on a case, sweetie."

Dad never told me when he left on a case. He'd call Mom as he was leaving, but I always had to hear from her.

"Fine," I muttered and burrowed deeper into my pillow.

"Rachel…"

"Good night, Mom."

After a pause, Mom replied, "Good night, sweetie. I love you."

"Love you, too."

After she closed my door, I got up and changed into my cotton drawstring pants and tee shirt in the dark before climbing under the bed covers. Hannah stayed with me and settled against my hip with my hand over her body.

None of my friends who thought it was cool that my dad was FBI knew about the nights I would lay awake, frustrated and worried. They never saw past the glamour of the badge and gun, not realizing they were necessary when chasing criminals.

And they didn't know what it was like, to expect your dad to be there and half the time he wouldn't show up. Birthdays, holidays, parent/teacher conferences, concerts. Yeah, I've looked and I've waited for a train that didn't come enough that it doesn't even surprise me anymore.

So I stared at my ceiling for half the night, wondering when I would see my dad next, and how bad the damage had been this time.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Notes:   
I have been writing fanfiction for years on another site, so I thought I would try posting here to spread my wings a little more. I have four "Movements" of this series already completed and will begin work on the fifth in the near future.

Some useful information for you—Rachel's mother is Sarah Jacobs who we see in the season two finale and then it is mentioned that Gideon had met her in college. Eventually, I will explain how Rachel came to be (in practicality, not biologically which I hope everyone reading knows anyway) and other things about Gideon and Sarah's relationship.

I'll leave notes like this at the end of chapters when I think they're necessary, but feel free to ask me any questions and I will try to answer or just tell you to wait because the answer is revealed later on.

I hope that you have enjoyed and will come back for more. Thanks for reading!  
Cantoris


	2. Minor Chord

Minor chord-a series of three notes, sounded simultaneously to create harmony, where the second note from the root creates a minor third while the third note forms a perfect fifth with the root to create a dark, melancholy mood.

I know it's a bad case when the first thing Dad does, seeing me for the first time, is hug me tight and hold on for a while.

He had been gone for over a week this time, missing one of Mom's fundraisers which meant I had had to go along and hide in her office since she also wouldn't leave me alone for that long.

Dad showed up in the middle of rehearsal, right in the middle of Tallulah's song with the other show girls. I lost about two measure's worth of playing, just staring at him. I had never seen him look so beaten down in my entire life. It scared me.

Lizzie, the other flutist in the pit band sitting next to me, moved her tapping foot over my toe; I resumed playing just as Mr. Hoover glanced over at me. I couldn't let Dad distract me and unfortunately, I had enough practice at blocking him out.

By the end of rehearsal, Dad hadn't moved at all and the other kids were starting to notice. Only a handful even recognized him as my dad which really says how often and how consistently Dad shows up for things. Very slowly, I put my music in order and dismantled my flute, putting the pieces back in the case at my feet. My back pack and coat were in a pile with the other pit band members' things. Finally, once I felt like I could handle whatever had happened, I walked over to Dad.

His arms reached around me, back pack and all, and he squeezed like I would disappear at any second. His clothes were wrinkled and smelled faintly of smoke and sweat. He must have just come back and hadn't even gotten clean yet. I couldn't imagine how tired he had to be, leaning slightly against me even though I was so much smaller.

I hugged him back. I don't always, but something really awful must have happened. If it had been about Mom, he would have pulled me out of rehearsal, so it had to be related to his case. I know he faces the worst of the worst crimes and criminals; to put him into shock like this is terrifying.

Somehow, Dad drove us home, silent and tense, so I didn't say a word. I just followed him out of the car and into the house with none of my usual games or tricks. Once inside, I dropped my bag and coat on the floor rather than take the time to put them in their proper places—I had other concerns. Dad was just standing in the front hall with no sign whatsoever that he knew where he was anymore or what he was doing.

After bad cases, Dad hovers and watches me like a hawk until I want to scream at him. Whatever this was, it was worse because he was completely shut down, like he couldn't process what happened or what he's seen or done while it was so recent.

It used to be, before Mom and I moved so close, that I wouldn't even know about these differences. Mom would just tell me that Dad wasn't coming that weekend or holiday and that was that. Once I started seeing him more often, I learned about the aftermath of his cases. No matter how angry I am at him, when he's like this especially, I shove it all away until he's better and by then I've calmed down and we go back to normal. Well, normal for us.

It was too easy to lead Dad to couch and sit down, I just pushed and he moved. When he was settled, his face still blank of anything, I sat down next to him, wrapping my arm around his stomach and resting my head on his shoulder with my feet tucked up underneath me. Dad didn't react for a really long time, but eventually, he brought his arm around mine and the other around my shoulders. Neither of us had said a single word yet.

I don't know how long we sat there, but it was getting dark already when Mom walked through the door from the garage. She had to know Dad was here since he was still parked outside, so she wasn't surprised to see us. She did look surprised that we were sitting together in the room without any lights on.

"Jason? Rachel?"

Dad finally reacted and looked over his shoulder at Mom. I looked, too, but after a cursory glance to determine that I wasn't the one with problems, she focused on Dad. She stared for a long time and then whatever she saw in Dad's face made her nod her head slowly. I guess it's that thing when couples don't even need to talk to each other but they still communicate.

Mom came over and helped me stand up. Dad's eyes were closed now and his shoulders were beginning to shake. His arms slipped off me easily.

"Rachel, go downstairs and get cleaned up," Mom told me, giving me a gentle push toward the stairs. "I'll take care of Dad and we'll order Chinese tonight, okay?"

"Sure," I agreed, but Mom was already next to Dad, taking his face in her hands. I looked away before I could see if Dad was crying. Dads aren't supposed to cry.

We live in a ranch house with a finished basement. The main floor is the living room, kitchen, sun room, master bedroom and bathroom and the spare room which Mom uses as an office. It used to be my room, but I convinced Mom to let me move downstairs over the summer. My domain has the family room, laundry room, my room and a small bathroom. There are windows toward the ceiling so I get plenty of natural light.

Hannah came out of my bedroom as she heard me on the stairs. Her litter box and food dishes are down here so she doesn't have to go upstairs when other people are over. I grabbed her and held her close to my chest and buried my face into her fur. The cat purred contentedly and rubbed her face against my neck. It wasn't until Hannah meowed at me that I let her go.

My bathroom just has a standing shower where the master bath has the huge tub. It wasn't until I was about to turn the water on I realized that the scent of smoke had transferred over to me from Dad. I scrubbed quickly and washed my hair, trying not to think about it.

A change of sweatpants and a tee shirt later and I sat on my bed, wondering what to do. Would Mom and Dad want to be left alone, or could I go upstairs and see about dinner? I ended up staying downstairs and tried to finish my homework. It was too quiet and I was too unsettled for my usual classical music, so I hooked my iPod into the speakers in my room and cued up Chicago.

One of the factors that helped convince Mom about my room change is that the basement was soundproofed as part of the refurbishing. As long as I wasn't vibrating the floorboards above me, I could practice and listen to music to my heart's content.

French grammar and Shakespeare distracted me until Mom came in. She walked over and pressed the pause button right in the middle of the Cell Block Tango and sat across from me on my bed.

"Where's Dad?" I asked. I felt sometimes that I would spend the rest of my life asking that question.

"He's lying down," she answered. "I ordered some Mongolian beef for you, okay?"

I nodded. Whatever had happened with Dad, Mom was looking really sad and tense.

"Did he say what had happened?" I asked, wondering if I would actually get the truth.

Mom sighed and reached out to take my hand. "Six people died yesterday, sweetie. They were agents on the case with your dad and he tried to save one but it didn't work."

I felt cold. "Was it—was it Reid?"

"No," Mom assured me. "It wasn't. But Dad's having a really hard time with this."

I nodded again. "Will he be okay?"

"Not for awhile, sweetie. Dad's going to be here for a few days, I don't want him alone at his apartment. Okay?"

"Sure," I shrugged.

"Okay then. I'll come and get you when the food gets here."

Mom hit the play button for me on the way out. I set A Midsummer Night's Dream aside since I couldn't concentrate anymore. I had never heard of other agents dying or being hurt on cases before. Dad never really talked about victims that died either, like he was afraid to scar me for life or something.

But just thinking about six people who were dead just stopped me in my tracks. I got up and turned the music off. Suddenly, listening to women singing about murder wasn't so entertaining. In the silence, I kept thinking in twisted circles. Dad had to have been right there when those agents died to try to save one. Maybe Reid had been there, too. Was he hurt at all? If they had been right there, how close had Dad been to dying himself? I could have lost my dad.

Mom let me eat in my room which told me how bad it really was. She said that Dad was still resting, but I figured that he was pretty messed up if she didn't want me to see it. I spent the rest of the night trying to finish my homework and barely managing it. Eventually, I went to sleep, cuddling with Hannah and wondering what I would find in the morning.

When I woke up, I remembered everything. I got dressed and went upstairs for breakfast. Mom was at the island counter, leaning against it and holding a cup of coffee. She wasn't dressed for work but was wearing jeans and a green sweater.

"Mom?"

"Good morning, Rachel. Did you sleep okay?"

"Yeah. What about Dad? And why aren't you dressed for work?"

"I'm going to stay home with Dad today. Can you take the bus to school? I'll call Alicia's mom to drive you home after play practice."

"Okay."

I made my own breakfast of toast, yogurt and apple juice, but I didn't see Dad before I left. Alicia asked what was wrong with me during the day and a few other kids asked if that had been my dad the day before. I ignored them all for the most part. I got through classes and rehearsal okay, but I practically raced from Mrs. Burke's car to the house at the end of the day.

Whatever was going on, I knew I had to be there to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:  
> This chapter is the main reason that I felt I had to start writing Rachel's story before the show officially begins. Boston is a pivotal moment for Gideon, and therefore, it would critical for Rachel as well. There's another pre-series chapter and then we start with the first seasons' episodes. Thanks for reading!


	3. Adagio

Adagio-a tempo marking meaning to play a slow speed

It took a few weeks to finally figure out all of Dad's new quirks. He was living with us full time because I think Mom didn't trust him on his own. He would only sleep for a few hours at a time, so I never knew if I would fine him awake or asleep when I came home from school. Sometimes he would eat and sometimes he wouldn't—he hadn't cooked at all.

Other things I noticed were that he always wanted to know where I was in the house and he'd get startled easily if I was too quiet. Mom asked me to actually close the door to keep Hannah downstairs so that she and Dad wouldn't cross paths at all, even accidentally. Loud sounds would make him jump, so I had to be careful with my music choices and volume, even with the soundproofing.

Now more than ever, I didn't know what to say to him. He wouldn't tell me anything even when he was normal so I didn't hold my breath for him to tell me anything now. I know Mom talked with him. I could hear them sometimes at night but could never make out what exactly they were saying.

I didn't even know if he was working during the day until Mom mentioned that he was on medical leave and wouldn't be leaving on cases any more. I had mixed feelings about that. I had no idea how to deal with Dad being around all the time, let alone living with us full time. He was twitchy and withdrawn and I found myself missing the way things used to be, even when he was always gone and breaking promises.

I know he went to as many of the funerals he could. They were all in different states to accommodate the families of the agents who had died. Each time he came back, he would lock himself in the office he now shared with Mom for hours.

One night, we had a visitor from the FBI, a man whose name I knew but had never met. Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner had been working with my dad for years and apparently he had been filling in since Dad had gone off the deep end.

It was a good thing he waited three weeks because Dad was finally remembering to do simple things on his own like eating and showering without Mom telling him to do it.

"Hotch, you remember Sarah, but I don't think you've met our daughter Rachel," Dad introduced after taking the other man's coat. Aaron Hotchner was a tall man with short dark hair and a serious face who looked like a poster guy for the Bureau, unlike my dad who got mistaken for a college professor.

"Sarah, nice seeing you again," Hotch said. "Rachel, it's very nice to meet you."

He shook my hand and didn't say anything like Dad had pictures of me at his office—which I guessed he didn't with his separation issues.

"You as well," Mom said, bringing a tray with glasses full of iced tea to the living room. "Rachel, say hello to Mr. Hotchner," Mom prompted me, looking at me in faint disapproval for not saying anything.

I did and then got lost when Mom darted her eyes to the stairs. I rolled my eyes once I was turned around. Typical that I didn't get to listen in, but I perched at the top of the stairs with the door open a crack.

"They're trying to push me out, aren't they?" Dad asked. "Have they offered you the unit leader position, yet?"

"Not exactly," Agent Hotchner said. "The director assured me that your medical leave is good for as long as you want. I'll be leading the team in your absence, but it's not permanent."

"Jason, what will you do?" Mom asked. "You can't just sit around all day alone with your thoughts."

"Actually, the Bureau has asked me to pass along an offer to teach at the Academy while you…recover. The medical leave will be amended with that in mind. You'll still be an agent and will consult on cases, but no field work."

There was a long moment when Mom and Dad spoke in hushed voices that I couldn't understand. When I heard Mom walk around I jumped down the stairs and leaped on my bed, grabbing a notebook to pretend I had been working.

"Honey, you can come up now. Dad's cooking dinner and wants his sous chef."

I jumped from the bed and raced up the stairs to see if it was true. And there Dad was, cutting up onions and tomatoes for marinara sauce. I came up to his side and waited. He finished with the tomato and then leaned over and kissed me on the forehead. I smiled and went to pantry without being told and grabbed a box of pasta.

It wasn't completely back to normal—no music—but it was close enough. Mr. FBI stuck around for dinner, making light conversation with Mom and Dad and asking the basic questions about my classes and hobbies that all new adults ask kids and teenagers to include them in the conversation. He was more knowledgeable than most about musicals. He explained that his wife was very involved in theatre while they were in high school and college. He got major points for that. That, and he said I could call him Hotch like most everybody else did.

After Hotch left, Mom said she would clean up while Dad took me into the living room to talk.

"I know it's been very hard for you, these last few weeks," he said, staring me straight in the eye. "We don't exactly have a normal family life to begin with and when things change, it can be very unsettling. I wanted to tell you that I appreciate how well you've been dealing with it. You've been very mature about this and I'm proud of you."

"Will you ever go back?" I asked, meaning back in the field, but I was also fibbing to cover up when I had eavesdropped earlier.

"Not yet," Dad answered. "I'll be teaching at the academy instead of going out on cases. No more traveling for a while."

"Are you going to stay here? With me and Mom?"

"With Mom and me," Dad corrected me first. "And I think I'll go back to my apartment since it's closer to Quantico. At least during the night. I'd like to keep coming over for dinner and weekends, if that's okay with you and your mom."

I sat and thought about it for a moment. I wasn't stupid enough to think that Dad would be back to normal over night and having him around so much recently hadn't been all that great. But part of me was liking coming home to both parents every night.

"Does this mean you can come to the show?" I asked. Dad had missed most of my other performances and shows.

"Every night if you'll let me," Dad promised with a small smile.

I smiled back. "Okay."

We had ice cream sundaes and watched TV that night, all three of us. It was rare for me to see, but Mom and Dad sat really close together without being too gross. Mom made sure that my homework was done and then I practiced for an hour down in my room.

I almost felt like a normal teenager.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Short chapter, but it's just how things worked out. I was trying to capture the effects of Gideon's PTSD and how a teenager would think about it. I hope you are enjoying the work so far and will continue to enjoy. 
> 
>  
> 
> We have one more chapter after this that's pre-series and then we jump right into the first season.


	4. Pastoral

Pastoral-A composition whose style is simplistic and idyllic, reminiscent of rural scenery

It was so surreal. I looked that word up in the dictionary because unreal didn't sound quite right.

Dad was over at our house at least five nights a week. He would pick me up at school each time he said he would. We started playing chess again, though he still never let me win and I would never win. We cooked, we baked, we watched TV. Mom was smiling all the time, just so happy that Dad was around so regularly.

He talked about his day like he never had before. He talked about his students, but never what he was teaching them. Somehow he was able to tell stories while still maintaining his rule about "no cases" at home. He asked me about school and actually could remember what I had told him the previous day and asked follow up questions.

Was this what it was like to grow up with two parents? Well, except that Dad still slept somewhere else at night.

Dad went to each night of Bugsy Malone just like he had promised. Reid came with one night and Hotch even showed up with his wife, Haley. Mom and Dad promised me dinner out that night and Mom convinced Hotch, Haley, and Reid to come with. I just shrugged when Dad checked with me to see if I minded. As long as I got a root beer float to celebrate, I didn't care.

"What kinds of things will you do in high school?" Haley asked me at dinner.

I swallowed my bite of pizza before answering. "Band and orchestra, definitely."

Haley turned to my mom. "You and Jason must be very proud."

"We are," Mom said, squeezing my shoulder. "Are you and Aaron thinking about children?"

"She's pregnant," Dad interrupted.

We had been sitting girls on one side and boys on the other at the table, so Dad, Reid, and Hotch had been having their own conversation. But once Dad spoke, everyone turned their attention to Haley, who blushed a little bit.

"How did you know that?" Hotch asked, bringing his hand on top of Haley's on the table top.

"She's drinking iced tea tonight instead of wine, she ordered linguini with no sauce so it won't aggravate the nausea, and you've hovering," Dad answered simply. "And she's walking differently."

Pretty much everyone was just staring at Dad, though Mom turned to smile at Haley and Reid just looked embarrassed.

"Well, you can see that no matter what, they can't turn off their profiling," Mom confided in Haley who eventually smiled back at Mom.

"Profiling? What's that?" I asked. I had no idea what that meant.

Now everyone's attention was on me which made me squirm a little. There's a reason I like being in the pit band: no one really sees you.

Hotch and Reid were looking at Dad funny and I didn't know why. Dad, though, was looking at me and I felt like he was deciding something important. After a while, he told me exactly how he and the team he worked with—which included Reid and Hotch—chased and caught the criminals. He talked about human behavior and how if you thought about how a person acted and what they did, you could learn to figure out why and even guess what the person would do next.

I thought he was pulling my leg, even though Dad had never been one to play that card as a parent, but then I thought about how Dad had figured out Haley was pregnant. All the things he had noticed I had seen, too, but I wouldn't have figured it out. And from the surprise on Mom's face, it wasn't just because I was a kid.

Good thing I had never tried to lie to Dad before.

Conversation turned to Hotch and Haley then and I was grateful. I ate another slice of pizza to cover my silence. I had some thinking to do.

Dad had never explained before, how he did his job. All my life, I just knew that he was an FBI agent who chased and caught bad guys and that he traveled all over the country to do that. He had never explained profiling before or that there was a whole department in the FBI full of profilers like him, like Reid, like Hotch. Really, Dad hardly ever talks about work at home.

Mom nudged me gently, interrupting my train of thought.

"Sweetie, do you want to get dessert?"

I shook my head and just finished off my root beer float.

We drove home, just me and Mom, and I sat up that night, wondering how to feel about what I had learned about Dad. I couldn't decide if it changed anything and why Dad had never told me before. For one thing, it explained why Dad had always had to travel if only certain agents knew how to do this profiling thing. But what did it mean that my dad could predict the habits of serial killers? I mean, he had to think like them, right? That was a little creepy. And I thought about Reid and how he seemed like such a kid still where sometimes I felt like I was older than him. He did the same thing, getting into the heads of really nasty criminals.

The next day, I was tired and moody and just didn't want to talk, but Mom had the day off and said it would be our best chance to go shopping for a new dress to wear for graduation.

After a few stores, we found a white halter dress with pink, purple, and orange lines forming geometric patterns. Already my closet was full of black clothing since that was our dress code for performances and I knew that would be the same story in high school, so I like to dress with more colors when I can.

We lost ourselves in a bookstore next for almost an hour and then got soup and sandwiches to take to a park to eat outside. Being in the hospital all the time for work, Mom loved being outside.

"Mom, why didn't Dad ever tell me what he does for work?" I asked when were driving home.

Mom sighed and was quiet for a moment before she answered.

"Rachel, you know there are some very bad people out in the world that hurt other people," Mom started. "Your dad handles the worst kind and he sees a lot really terrible things every day. And now you know that he catches them because he figures out what they're thinking. That wasn't something you needed to know as a child."

"But I'm not a kid any more," I pointed out.

"I know that. And I think Dad would have told you in a few years when he thought you were ready. But there are parts of his job that adults can't handle well and he just wants to protect you. You're his little girl and always will be."

Great. That's just what every teenager wants to hear.

"What are the parts that you can't handle?" I asked.

Mom sighed again but kept her eyes on the road and didn't answer.

But there were worse things, I knew. And for the most part, I got over it and knew nothing I did or said would ever change Dad. Mom later told me that Dad didn't even tell her everything about his job or his cases so that made me feel a little better.

Instead of making a big deal out of it, I let Dad help me with my band camp admission form. Dad came with me to meet my high school councilor when Mom picked up an extra shift at the hospital. We talked about my classes at home, but it was Dad who convinced the councilor that I could handle band and orchestra along with my honors courses.

I had both of my parents in the audience when I graduated from junior high on the honor roll. I got cards from two of my half-brothers and a post card from Thailand from another. Alicia and I were packing and shopping for camp—six weeks of playing and lessons with some more mundane camping activities mixed in for fun.

If Mom would still come home from work, drained and depressed from losing another patient, I was used to that. Dad was still not completely relaxed and kept up his new habits of standing against walls and keeping track of everyone in the house while he was there. Reid continued to come over for dinner about once every two weeks and I looked at him differently, now that I knew why a genius nerd like him was an FBI agent when I was pretty sure I could kick his butt physically. Then again, he was the same quirky Reid who didn't know anything about Harry Potter but could tell me the statistics on just how many books a year are published by genre.

If this is what my life is going to be like from now on, I could get used to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Again, another short one. And the next chapter is the first that corresponds to an actual episode. I promise, the chapters become longer from here on out.
> 
> How do you explain profiling to a child? My theory is that you really can't and Gideon definitely wouldn't unless he was forced as he was here. I also have a theory that Jack is a post-Boston baby cause the timing just works out too perfectly otherwise.
> 
> If anyone else has caught on to my theme, all the chapter titles are musical terms or concepts and that will hold true for this entire work. Some of these come easier than others and I'm always looking for input and suggestions. I make no guarantees but I love hearing ideas.
> 
> Thanks again and I hope you enjoyed.


	5. Reprise

Related episode: 1.1 Extreme Aggressor

Reprise-to repeat a previous part of a composition generally after other music has been played

It had all been going so well. I had been in high school for a little over a month and was wondering why everyone had said it was so much harder than middle school. Alicia and I shared band and lunch in our schedules, but I had orchestra to myself to try something new and challenging. Most of my teachers were fine and a few I really liked. I felt great and Mom and Dad were both around as much as they could be.

I should have known.

Alicia and I were walking out of school one day and her mom called me over to her car.

"Rachel, your mom called and asked me to drive you home. She said your dad had to leave for work."

I don't think Mrs. Burke knows exactly what Dad does for a job. I mean, it's common knowledge that he's an FBI agent, but I think most people assume he used to travel to gives lectures. After all, that's what I kind of thought for most of my life.

It took until I was unlocking the front door to realize that Dad was on a case. He was on a case after six months of not going on cases. He hadn't even said it was possible he would go out again, let alone out of the blue like this. He was supposed to be a teacher at the academy, teaching other people how to profile.

He wasn't supposed to rush out and leave me again without warning.

I dropped my back pack at the door and kicked my shoes off, suddenly not caring about making a mess. The answering machine in the kitchen was blinking with a waiting message. I hit play.

"Rachel, Dad called me and said he's going to Seattle with the team on a case. It was a surprise for him, too, so please don't be angry with him. I can't leave yet since I have a budget meeting later tonight. I'll be home around ten or eleven and Mrs. Rectoris will call around eight to check on you. I love you, sweetie."

I huffed out a breath and deleted the message with a hard jab of my finger. It was like the past six months had never happened. And I had gotten used to having Dad around. I had grown to like it.

I let Hannah up from downstairs; if Dad wasn't around to get jumpy, why not? After that, I brought up some of my CDs and set up a random mix on the stereo to play for hours. I hadn't had the house to myself in months. Lately, any time Mom had to work, Dad would stay with me. I tried to brush it off. Tried to enjoy my independence, but all I could do was worry.

I was angry, sure. But I couldn't forget how Dad had looked after that last case. And I still didn't even really know what had happened except that six people had died.

I wrapped up my homework quickly and practiced for an hour on our concert music. When I got hungry, I scrounged in the fridge and found some left over lemon chicken and rice soup. A bowl of that and some oyster crackers made the meal. I settled on the couch with a bowl of cookie dough ice cream and watched several episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer on DVD. Hannah curled up in my lap and waited for drips of melted ice cream.

I fielded the call from Mrs. Rectoris and assured her I was fine. By ten, I was in pajamas and faking sleep for when Mom came in the check on me like she always did. Around midnight, I snuck back upstairs and went into my mom's office to use her computer.

Using just the glow from the computer's screen to read, I got online and found all the newspapers published in Seattle. If it was a case that needed Dad and his team (and I still thought of it in that way even though Dad wasn't the leader anymore), it had to have made the papers, I figured. After a half hour of searching, I found an article on women going missing and their bodies left out in the open a few days later. That had to be it. It was short on details on what had been done to the women besides being killed, but it was still more than Dad would ever tell me even if I asked.

I shuddered and almost wished I had left it alone.

Dad was gone a few days. I came home from school and found him wearing an arm sling.

"What happened?" I demanded. It was the first time I had ever seen him injured.

"He was shot but it's just a graze," Mom assured me, sitting next to him. "The sling is just to remind your dad not to use the arm if he doesn't have to."

"What happened?" I repeated.

"I was confronting a man who had been kidnapping and killing women," Dad answered shortly, eyes never straying from my face.

"Jason, I don't think—" Mom interrupted.

"It's all right," Dad said to her, but he kept looking at me. "He was using his current victim as a shield when I found him, but I provoked him into shooting at me instead of her. He missed and we caught him."

I swallowed tightly and my hands started shaking. "And is the woman okay?" I found myself asking.

"She's fine."

"And there wasn't any other way to save her?" I asked just to make sure.

"No. This was the only way."

I controlled my shaking and walked over, finally hugging Dad gently. "Okay," I whispered into his shoulder. Dad used his good arm to squeeze me tight and pat me on the back.

I stayed in the living room, supposedly listening to my iPod and reading, while Mom and Dad talked in the kitchen.

"Was this a one-time thing, or are you back in the field?" Mom asked quietly. They thought I wasn't paying attention or couldn't hear or something.

"Hotch was asked to give an evaluation on me," Dad evaded. He did it with me all the time so that straight answers from him are surprising. That he was now playing that game with Mom was a shock, too.

"Jason."

Dad sighed. "I won't be the unit leader any more, but I'll be working with the team out in the field, yes."

Now Mom sighed. "Why? Jason, you know that I have never questioned your career, but you can't keep doing this to yourself. Can't you just keep teaching at the academy?"

Dad gave his answer too quietly for me to hear, but I heard Mom's next question.

"And what about Rachel? You've spent more time with her this past year than the rest of her life. Don't tell me you'll give that up easily."

"Of course not."

I didn't want to listen any more, so I ran downstairs to my room and drowned out their conversation with Gustav Holst. I understood that what Dad did was important. A woman was alive because of him that might have been killed. But he was my dad and I wanted him to be with me. I hated when he was supposed to be somewhere only to find out he was in New York or California or Florida or somewhere.

Tears were dripping down onto my book before I realized I was crying. I was sitting on my bed, knees drawn up to my chest and Hannah perching on my feet.

"Rachel, sweetie?"

I looked up just as Hannah darted off the bed and under it. Dad was standing in the doorway. He came to sit in front of me.

"It's not that bad, really," Dad said. He thought I was crying about him getting shot. Well, I mean, that was part of it, but not all of it.

"Why do you have to go back out?" I asked, hiccupping slightly. "Why can't you just stop?"

"I don't know how to answer you, sweetie," Dad said, reaching out and taking my hand. Always stalling.

"Try," I said.

"What if I asked you to stop playing the flute?" Dad asked. "Would you?"

"It's not the same," I argued.

"No, it's not," Dad acknowledged. "But music is a part of you just like profiling is part of me. I can't just stop."

"I hate this," I said. I hated crying, I hating Dad leaving and I hated when Dad wouldn't give a straight answer.

"I know, Rae."

I let Dad hug me and wipe my face with Kleenex. We had a quiet and tense dinner and I finished my homework.

The next day, Saturday, I spent reading, practicing, and jewelry making with Mom. Dad and I cook together, Mom and I make jewelry. Mostly necklaces, bracelets, and earrings using beads and wire, but Mom was looking into plaster molds and molten silver to try something new.

Dad had gone out for a drive to clear his head, otherwise he would have come over and we would have done something else. I wanted Dad to realize that we were all happier when he was teaching and not chasing and that he was still helping people while doing it. I expected Dad to come back and say he was going back into the field and there was nothing Mom or I could say to change his mind.

Well, I was mostly right. I just didn't expect Dad to come back after catching another serial killer while he had stopped for gas.

"Damn it, Jason, what were you thinking?" Mom cursed. I was once again eavesdropping at the top of the stairs while she and Dad argued in the kitchen. "You were alone and unarmed and you could have been killed!"

"It wasn't my intention to go hunting for the Footpath killer," Dad pointed out. "I was there by accident and I recognized aspects of a profile. I was going to leave and call in back up, but he cornered me with a shotgun before I could get away."

I froze for a second before my hands started trembling. Whether I was just paying attention more as I grow older or the bad guys were getting more dangerous, I felt like Dad was getting into more trouble lately than in my whole life before. How close had he come to dying this time?

Suddenly, I felt like I couldn't breathe and my hands were shaking even more. I felt strange, like I was hot on the outside and cold on the inside, or maybe the other way around. I didn't even know that I was fainting until the door abruptly pulled away from me and I fell on the floor without seeing it.

"Rachel? Rachel?"

"What's wrong? Look at me, sweetie."

"She's hyperventilating."

"Did she hear us?"

I didn't know how to stop and that scared me most of all. But I felt someone's fingers on my face and slowly, my eyes opened and saw Dad's face.

"Look at me, Rachel, just at me. Right here, look right here."

I could only breathe in short gasps, but I nodded and stared right back.

"Good, good. Now, I need you to calm down for me. Feel me, right here."

Dad had reached one arm around my shoulders as were sitting on the floor, pulling me close until my back was against his chest. He held my hands in his, squeezing slightly and tilted my head so that I could look at him and feel his heartbeat against my cheek at the same time.

"Just breathe with me. I'm right here with you, I'm not going anywhere. Just breathe."

I don't know how long we sat there, but eventually, I stopped shaking and started breathing normally. When I could sit up on my own, Dad moved his hand to my face, rubbing his thumb over my cheek.

"Rachel?"

Mom had been quiet while Dad had talked to me, kneeling at the edge of my field of vision and looking worried.

"You heard us talking, didn't you?" Dad asked. "You heard about the killer that I found today."

I nodded and sniffed deeply, taking in all the air I could. "You said he cornered you with a shotgun and you were alone," I whispered. "You were alone and he could have killed you and we would never know." I was starting to freak out again but Dad just shook his head and pulled me in for a tight hug.

"Rachel, I need you know that I was in control of that situation," Dad told me earnestly. "My job is dangerous, yes, but I promise you that I am careful and sometimes it's not as bad as it sounds. Please, Rae, I need you to understand this."

I wasn't sure if I did, but I nodded again any way.

"Come on, sweetie, how about you lie down for a minute."

Mom helped me stand up and guided me to the living room couch, fluffing the pillows like she does when I'm sick. Mom also traced my face with her hands and smoothed out my hair, tucking it behind my ears.

"I'll get you some water, okay? I'll be right back."

Mom and Dad probably didn't want me to listen in again, but I have pretty good hearing.

"What was that?" Mom demanded softly. "A panic attack?"

"Yes," Dad answered even softer. "I think with the case in Seattle and now overhearing about today, she's growing to realize just how dangerous the job can be. How dangerous the world can be."

"And that doesn't make you reconsider?"

"Sarah, I can't stop profiling. You know that better than anyone. I wasn't even working today and I found a man who fit one of my profiles. It will follow me wherever I go, whatever I do. I can't change that."

I breathed slowly, reminding myself how, breathing in through my nose, feeling my belly rise and not my chest as my rib cage expanded, and then released the breath out of my mouth silently. Woodwind and brass players and singers eventually learn to breathe like this.

I didn't want to be scared, but I was. I didn't want Dad to be in danger, but he was. I didn't want Mom to worry, but she did and she would. I tried to act normal around Mom and Dad, but I still felt anxious and couldn't shake it for a few days, especially when Dad went out on a case a week later.

Mom noticed that I was different and so did Alicia at school. Even when Dad came home completely unharmed, I still felt like I could lose him any minute.

I wasn't really sure I understood what Dad was talking about when he said profiling would follow him everywhere. I wasn't sure I would ever understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: And there we have the first episode. This is what most chapters will be like, as in having references to the episodes and cases, but not going through them all over again. This is deliberate because this is supposed to be Rachel's story, not a retelling of the show exactly just with an extra character. Naturally, there will be times when parts of the episodes will be repeated, but it won't be often. Also, there will not be a chapter for every single episode and not all the chapters will correspond to an episode but most will. Some chapters will even be written to match two episodes.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed.


	6. Da Capo

Related episode: 1.3 Won't Be Fooled Again

Da capo-literally meaning "to the head" to indicate a return to the beginning of the musical piece

I started paying more attention to where Dad went on his cases. Mom and Dad bought me a cell phone of my own so that I could receive texts from Dad whenever he had to leave suddenly. They thought that it would help with my growing anxiety if I knew more about where Dad was and what he was doing. But if I woke up and discovered Dad wasn't around before checking my phone or with Mom, I would get a small panic attack, though not as large as the first one.

Not like I suddenly got the whole picture. Most trips, I just got a text with a city and a general label about what type of person Dad and the team was chasing. From there, I would Google local newspapers and TV stations for reports on my own. Mom didn't know as I did my research at school or at night in secret. I told Alicia I was interested in current events whenever she asked.

It helped, but not really.

There were things I knew. Dad was in Florida and he was there because of a bomber who had already killed two people. Other than that, I was drawing a blank.

"Hey, Rachel. Got a minute?"

Mrs. Kessler, our band teacher, was home with her sick daughter and our substitute teacher knew nothing about music, so it was an unexpected study hall for the next two days. Alicia and I were just chatting about our upcoming sleepover plans. If Dad wasn't back by the weekend, we'd have to go to her house.

The boy who was interrupting us was Michael Garrett, percussionist and trouble with a capital T. He's one of those kids who dress in all black, has hair hanging down to his shoulders, and doesn't socialize much. Almost everyone will say that he skips class to go outside and smoke but no one has actually seen him do it.

"What do you want, Michael?" I asked.

Michael didn't normally approach anyone, let alone me.

"Your dad's FBI, right? Like, he goes after serial killers and rapists?"

"What about it?"

"What about bombers?"

I hadn't really been paying attention to him and had kept my eyes down on my notebook with little doodles on it. But something in his voice made me look up and meet Michael's eyes.

"Yeah," I answered, a little less defensive this time. "Why do you need to know?"

"Will you look at something with me?"

"I'm not skipping class," I objected, even though we only had a sub.

Michael rolled his eyes. "Just, come on and follow my lead, please?"

If only he hadn't asked, 'please' and I could have stayed put. But I found myself closing my notebook and ignoring Alicia's whispered protest. I walked behind Michael as he headed for the sub who was sitting at the desk, reading the paper.

"We're working on a project together. Could we go to the library to use a computer?" Michael asked, giving me a look that said to back him up if needed. But I didn't need to say anything since the man just wrote us a pass slip, barely even looking up at us to consider it.

Michael was silent in the hallway and I was surprised that he actually took us to the library, handed over the pass and claimed one of the computers.

"Now will you tell me what this is about?" I asked. There were computers grouped together for when a whole class came in, but we were seated in our own little cubicle with as much privacy as you can expect in a public school full of nosy, gossiping teenagers.

"I go on a lot of websites that aren't exactly…" Michael trailed off, searching for the right word, probably.

"Legal?" I guessed.

He frowned slightly and typed in a web address. "It's all legal, just not exactly socially accepted."

When he pulled up the website, I understood what he was trying to say. It was a bomb making website, complete with diagrams, instructions, commentary and message boards.

"How did you get this though the school's filter system?" I asked, more curious than anything else.

"Not that hard to do," he dismissed it. "Anyway, I was on here last night and saw some chatter about those bombings down in Florida.'

Dad was in Florida chasing a bomber. I looked at Michael very carefully as he avoided my eyes.

"How did you know that my dad was there?" I demanded.

He shrugged. "I didn't actually. But there's this one guy who was offering advice to other bomb makers, I traced back and found his name, Adrian Bale. After that, I found a newspaper article about Bale from last year."

"Are we getting to the point soon?" I asked.

Finally, Michael looked at me after typing in a final set of commands. "This is the article."

It took a moment to realize that the black and white photo was Dad. He had this absolutely wrecked look on his face and I think his hands and clothes were covered in blood.

"It was in Boston. Bale surrendered to the cops, to your dad, but he set off one last bomb," Michael summed up for me. "He's in prison now, but now he's teaching other people how to make his bombs. I think that's what's happening in Florida."

I felt cold all over and didn't notice when Michael closed out of the website and log off of the computer. He grabbed me by the hand and led me out of the library, back toward the band room, but pulled me into one of the practice rooms in the same hallway.

"Um, sit down, okay? You don't look so good."

"I'm fine," I told him. It was a flat out lie, but Michael didn't say anything. "Why did you tell me all of this?" I asked after I felt like I wouldn't fall apart.

"I just figured that you could tell your dad or something. I don't know."

"Why do go to that website anyway? Do you want to be a serial bomber?"

"No, I just like knowing how stuff works. I might go into demolition someday."

Somehow, that surprised me the least. But Michael was still looking at me expectantly.

"Look, I'll try to talk to my dad, but he might be too busy to take my call," I told him. "And he might know about Bale anyway."

"Okay, um, thanks. Just wanted to tell someone."

Michael left in a rush, leaving me alone to dwell on that newspaper article. The date on the article matched up perfectly with the last case Dad had taken before his six month long break. The six agents must have died in the last bomb Bale had set off. Had he surrendered directly to Dad? Was that why Dad had been so torn up, thinking things had been safe when that last bomb had gone off?

He had changed his clothes that day, I realized with a start. The memory was burned into my brain, smelling the smoke and sweat when Dad had crushed me in his arms at play practice. But his clothes hadn't been bloody, or his hands. Mom had said he had tried to save someone that day and it hadn't worked.

I checked my watch and saw I had ten minutes left before my next class. Biting my lip, I decided to chance it and pulled out my cell phone. The school couldn't forbid us from having our phones with us at school, but it was against the rules to use them outside of passing period.

To my utter surprise, Dad actually picked up.

"Rachel, what is it? Is something wrong?"

I hesitated for just a moment, wondering what to say. "Adrian Bale."

"How do you know that name?" Dad demanded, sounding as angry with me as he's ever been in my life.

"A guy in school found a website all about bombs. Adrian Bale has been posting how to make his own kind and he thinks that's what's happening in Florida."

"We'll talk when I get home."

Dad hung up. It shouldn't have hurt as much as it did.

"What was that all about?" Alicia demanded over lunch. I picked listlessly at my Cobb salad, wondering just how much trouble I was in. "What did Michael want?"

"He just wanted to show me something," I answered.

"Oh my God. Tell me he wasn't showing you porn."

"No, nothing like that," I said, somewhat scandalized. "He found something he thought was a crime and wanted me to tell my dad. That's it."

"Well, just as long as you know half the band was whispering about it after you two left. Jennifer Thiele was telling Claire Lowe that you two were making out in a practice room."

I rolled my eyes and pushed my salad away for Alicia to pick out the tomato and croutons in addition to the hard boiled egg she had already snitched. In trade, I stole her 7-up, hoping to calm my stomach.

"Are you okay? Did he really bother you?"

"No, it wasn't Michael. It's just, don't be surprised we have to cancel our sleepover altogether, okay?"

I heard Mom and Dad talking in the kitchen when I came home the next day.

"I'm home," I called out, though they had to know it from the door opening.

"Come in here, please, Rachel," Mom called back.

I walked slowly, procrastinating my doom.

Dad's arms were crossed in front of him and he was frowning slightly. Mom just looked tired.

"Tell me about this boy," Dad said.

Well, I wasn't expecting him to focus on that part this whole thing.

"He's just a boy from school. He told me about the website and Adrian Bale, and then he showed me—" I broke off, not sure if he would handle a reminder of Boston very well.

"Showed you what?"

"The article from last year. When you went on medical leave," I explained quietly. "I saw it."

Dad stared at me and I wondered if this was what his suspects felt like.

"Jason," Mom interrupted our staring contest. They did their nonverbal, couple communication thing before Mom turned back to me.

"Rachel, do you understand why we're worried?" she asked.

"About Michael? He just wanted to let me know about what he found in case it could help," I said, surprising myself that I was defending Michael.

"I don't like you talking to a boy that visits bomb making websites," Dad said, frowning at me still. "And I didn't tell you about the case in Boston for a reason."

"He told me he likes to learn about different stuff," I argued. "It's no big deal, really. And with the article… well, you guys don't tell me what's going on so I have to find out on my own."

Dad seized on that right away. "You've been looking into my cases."

"Just the ones I can find on the Internet."

"Rachel, why?" Mom asked.

"Because I want to know if I can expect Dad to come home shot again!" I burst out. "I want to know if he's walking into a building that's going to explode. I hate being left in the dark and I'm sick of it!"

I ran for my room, for my bed and books and music, for Hannah and the comfort that came of squeezing the life out of one of my pillows.

Mom came in a half hour later.

"I know how hard it is, not knowing what he's doing," Mom said quietly, not even looking at me. "Rachel, I don't even know what your father does sometimes or what he sees or the horrific people he has to stop. It's not just wanting to protect you and your childhood. That's just how he is. He promised me that he wouldn't bring his work home with him when we had you. And even before that, he never spoke much about his job with me."

I ignored her and stared at the wall as I lay sideways on my bed, my pillow still clutched in my arms. I had never outright ignored Mom before, but I was tired of hearing her excuses for Dad.

Mom sighed and placed her hand on my shoulder; I still didn't move.

"Okay," she said. "Dad's gone, so it's just you and me for dinner tonight."

"I'm not hungry," I muttered petulantly.

"Fine. Work on that attitude or no sleepover with Alicia this weekend."

"All Michael did was try to help," I told my empty room after Mom had left. "And I just wanted to know what was going on."

Hannah came out of my open closet door where she had been sleeping on a pile of my dirty clothes. She leapt up onto the bed, meowing and rubbing her head against my body. I rolled onto my back with Hannah held to my stomach. I lay there for a long time, petting her, before getting up to sneak upstairs for some food.

I grabbed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich to take back to my room once I saw that Mom was in her office. I didn't sneak in that night to look up what had happened in Florida. I wasn't sure I wanted to antagonize either Mom or Dad any more for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: A lot of very important things happening here and there's still more to be covered with this subject, too. It's a critical case for Gideon, so it's naturally just as critical for Rachel. Also, some teenage angst with parental issues and boy problems. Uh oh. And yes, I thought it would be cute for Gideon to focus on the boy part of Rachel's little fact finding mission first. He's a dad of a teenaged girl. It's going to happen and trust me, it won't get any better.


	7. Second Ending

Related episode: 1.3 Won't Be Fooled Again 

Second Ending-after a repeat sign indicates to start a piece again from the beginning, the second ending is substituted for the first ending to finish the piece

That morning, I spoke to Mom only when I absolutely had to and tried not to sound annoyed at all. Alicia put up with a lot in our friendship with Mom and Dad's schedules combined so I didn't want to tell her I was close to being grounded.

It was the end of the week and Mrs. Kessler was back for band. I was packing up my flute and grabbing my music and books when I noticed Michael standing a few feet away from me, his case of mallets slung over his shoulder.

"Can I walk you to your next class?" he asked politely.

Alicia elbowed me sharply. "The whole school will label you a couple by the end of the day," she warned.

"I don't care," I answered her.

Michael waited for me to walk over and then matched my pace as I headed for the stairs to get to English.

"Did you talk to your dad?" Michael asked. He had skipped band the day before as it had been another study hall.

"Yeah. He freaked out that I knew about Adrian Bale."

"So, were they his bombs in Florida?"

"Dad never said. Either way, he's home so the case is over, I just don't know how it turned out."

"I think the bomber committed suicide," Michael told me. "But I didn't know how much to believe from the message board."

We had reached my next class but there was another three minutes left before class started. I stood off to the side of the hallway while Michael leaned against the wall right next to me.

"So, you didn't get in trouble, did you?" he asked. "You know, for knowing about Bale."

"Sort of. It didn't help that I found out from you," I explained.

Michael looked at me closely and straightened up to meet my eyes. "Why?"

I felt bad because it really did sound like I was insulting him which I wasn't. "It's just that my dad was worried about me talking to a guy who goes on bomb making websites. He's just being over-protective," I assured him.

Michael relaxed back into the wall. "Yeah, didn't think of that. Well, I'll let you get to your class."

"Are you far from your next class?" I asked, wondering how he would make it on time.

"Not really, but I wasn't really planning on going," Michael explained causally. He started to walk down the hallway.

I thought about calling after him—to say what I didn't know—but I saw Mr. Morris was starting to eye the clock through the open door so I slipped inside and into my seat before I could be marked tardy.

And yes, I heard from several people, including Jenny Thiele at orchestra later in the day, that I supposedly was smoking weed with Michael that morning and ditched three of my classes with him in order to make out. I ignored it all as they apparently knew my personal life better than I did myself and protesting would only act as confirmation. Isn't that just typical?

Mom was in the parking lot to drive Alicia and I home with her. I hadn't lost the sleepover which gave Alicia plenty of time to question my sanity.

"Are you completely mental?" she demanded once we were safe behind my bedroom door. I knew Hannah was safely hidden under my bed and wouldn't come out until we were asleep. I wished I had her in my lap to keep my hands from clenching in frustration.

"I mean, it's bad enough he talked to you the one time," Alicia went on, dumping her duffel bag next to my bed. "Now he's walking you to class and straight off the beaten track. Are you even listening to me?"

"Yes," I ground out. "But you're worrying about nothing." I turned and looked at her and accused, "Unless you believe the rumor mill over my word."

Alicia rolled her eyes and flopped next to me on my bed. "Of course I believe you. But I'm worried about your reputation. You know, Mark Amborn asked me today if you were unavailable since he heard about Michael."

Mark played sax in band and was considered quite the catch who, in addition to band, also ran track, kept good grades, volunteered after school, and was as close to drop-dead gorgeous as a fifteen year old teenaged boy could get.

"If Mark wants to know, he can ask me himself," I replied.

"Girls, what do you want for dinner?" Mom called downstairs, interrupting at the perfect time.

I raised my eyebrow at Alicia. She pretty much knew already that dinner would involve some kind of take-out with Mom in charge.

"Burgers?" she suggested.

"Sounds great. And some chili cheese fries."

Alicia and I were able to move onto other topics of conversation throughout the night as she had finally declared she wouldn't repeat herself any more about Michael. I had a TV in my room with a DVD player, so we watched The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants while we painted our finger- and toenails. After that was Pride and Prejudice while playing poker. I learned poker from Reid who grew up in Las Vegas, so I win just about every hand.

Late that night, after Alicia had fallen asleep, I sat up in the dark and really thought about what to do with my boy situation. Mark was cute and a really great guy. I wouldn't mind going out with him and the petty and snub part of me would love to show up the gossip mongers if it did happen. Not my only reason, of course, but a rather nice benefit.

But would Mark even ask me out now that Michael and I were considered together? If he didn't, then he must not want to ask me that badly. But was I ruining my dating chances entirely with my silence-is-golden routine?

And Michael… I knew he wasn't a bad guy. Not really. He just didn't respect most authority figures and lived by his own rules. But I had never seen him act like a jerk like other guys in our class except to those who were asking for it.

Being a teenager really sucked sometimes.

Eventually, I fell asleep, trying to ignore the flush that came to my cheeks thinking about both Mark and Michael. At least Alicia wasn't awake to see it.

Despite the difference between when we fell asleep, I still woke up before Alicia the next morning. I coaxed Hannah out from under the bed to feed her breakfast and then walked upstairs to see if Mom was awake as well.

I found Dad in the kitchen.

"Morning, Rae. One of Mom's patients died last night so she's taking care of things at the hospital," Dad explained without looking up. Dad never gave me time to ask where Mom was and just told me.

"Oh."

Dad and I hadn't really talked since it had come out that I was researching his cases and knew about Adrian Bale. He'd been at work, I'd been at school, and I think Mom told him to give me some space.

"French toast for breakfast?" Dad asked, looking up as I took a seat at the island counter.

"Sure," I said. We maintained silence while I sat and Dad got out bread, eggs, milk, and butter. He had the electric skillet out already.

"Dad. About Adrian Bale," I started hesitantly. He didn't look up from beating the custard, but there was a slight disturbance in the rhythm of his wisking. "Will you tell me what happened?"

I had no idea what he would say, if he would turn angry or depressed, or just keep up his no-sharing rule.

"That's not something I want you to know, Rachel," Dad eventually said quietly. "I don't want you to ever know the kinds of things I face."

"But it's important," I insisted just as quietly. "You scared me, a lot. And not knowing what's going on makes it worse."

Dad sighed, planting his hands on the counter and letting his head sag down.

I went for the last ace I had up my sleeve. "It's like if you can't tell me the truth about this, you can't tell me the truth about anything."

Dad finally looked up and met my eyes.

"I thought it was safe," Dad said. "I thought that I had Bale in custody and it was safe to send in our agents to recover the hostages. I was wrong."

"Those were the agents that were killed," I filled in. "And the one you tried to save."

If Dad was surprised I knew that much, he didn't show it. "Yes," he confirmed.

It wasn't that much more information than I had already found out from Mom, but somehow it made a difference. I decided to push my luck. "And what about Florida?"

Dad straightened up and went back to preparing breakfast. "He was a forger who was killing those who were about to expose his fakes. He copied Bale's bombs exactly."

"From the website," I commented, forgetting that it would bring up Michael.

Here Dad looked at me again. "Yes, the website. Now do you understand why I'm so worried about this boy who told you about it?"

It was almost the exact same thing Mom had said to me, but I guess that's parents for you.

"But Michael just wanted to help," I tried to explain. "He's not, dangerous, like the guys you chase."

"That's what a lot of people say about the men that I track down."

I tried not to feel too insulted that Dad was lumping me into the masses of people he encountered.

"But Dad, he told me because he was worried. He wanted to make sure that you guys knew there might be a connection that you didn't know about," I argued.

"Rachel, I know I'll probably never trust any boy who talks to you," Dad explained with half a smile. "But I don't like the sound of this Michael."

"And I'm telling you that I don't think he's that bad," I repeated myself for what felt like the hundredth time. "Can't you trust me even if you don't trust him?"

Dad reached out over the counter and ran his hand over my cheek before resting it there.

"I'll try, Rae."

We both smiled and I came around to help him. While Dad finished the French toast, I cut up some strawberries and pineapple and poured out chocolate milk. With the smell of sugar and cinnamon in the air, Alicia came up though not entirely awake. Dad left us alone to eat and clean up before Mrs. Burke arrived to drive Alicia home.

Dad did some work in Mom's office and I went to take a shower and get started on some homework. We were playing chess when Mom came home, drained and sad, so Dad stuck around and made meatloaf and mashed potatoes for dinner. While he did the dishes, I brought out a mug of hot chocolate to Mom and Seven Brides for Seven Brothers.

Eventually, we were all on the couch with Mom in the middle. I fell asleep at some point and woke up when Dad gently shook me. When I was up, I saw Dad do the same to Mom and begin to gently lead her to her room. Both said good night to me and I stumbled down the stairs to my own room.

In bed with Hannah, I fell asleep again, feeling at least a little easier in life with things cleared up between me and Dad. Mom would be okay after a few days and we would settle in again into our normal family rhythms.

Now there was just the rest of my teenaged life to figure out.


	8. Lullaby

Related episode: 1.5 Broken Mirror

Lullaby- a quiet, gentle song sung to put a child to sleep

Mom, Dad and I were eating dinner one night when Dad's phone rang. I huffed out a breath, especially when I heard Dad greet his caller: "Hotch, what is it?"

It's not the first time I've seen Dad get called in late at night. It's not too often because typically he's in his own apartment this time of night.

I was waiting for Dad to hang up and say a quick good bye to us, but I was wrong.

"Wait, let me hand you over to Sarah," Dad said and looked for Mom. She took the cell phone with concern on her face.

"Yes? Okay, you're at the hospital right now? Tell me how she was feeling before you took her in. Okay, okay. And the drugs they put her on... All right."

"Dad, what's going on?" I asked quietly as we both watched Mom.

"Haley wasn't feeling well, so Hotch took her to the ER," Dad explained, gestured his hand toward Mom to say that she would finish up once she hung up and then walked into the kitchen.

"Yes, that sounds fine so far. As long as she follows the doctor's instructions, it doesn't sound like you should worry. Is she being released tonight? Okay, I'll call and check up on her tomorrow. Get some rest."

Mom shut Dad's phone and let out a slight sigh.

"Is Haley okay?" I asked.

"Just some late trimester concerns," Mom answered. "The doctor at the ER put her on bed rest until delivery."

"Four weeks, six?" Dad asked.

"Six." She looked at Dad carefully. "As you're likely to be called on a case at least once in that time, and she'll be alone during most of the day anyway, do they have family near by to check in on her?"

"None of Hotch's family except his brother who's finishing school. Haley's sister lives out of state and her mother is close but is declining in health. She won't be able to play caretaker."

"Let's see if we can work out a schedule and convince the man to go home during his lunch breaks," Mom suggested. "And make sure he takes an actual lunch break."

Dad smiled. "I'll do my best."

We finished dinner, Mom cleaned up, and Dad left for the night.

Mom's not a practicing doctor any more, but she could probably go back to it if she wanted to. She had worked her way up to hospital administrator in our first home before the cancer treatment center for terminal cases offered her the top job. A lot of our friends and family call her for advice on medical problems. Hotch probably called Dad knowing he would either ask Mom or just give the call over like he did.

I really hoped that Haley was okay.

I was able to find out later that week. We had a long weekend for a teacher institute day, so Mom took me with her when she drove to Hotch's house that Friday. Dad had passed along the gate code and the location of the hide-a-key so that we could just walk in without Haley needing to get up to let us in. I guess bed rest means you literally shouldn't get out of bed, like, ever.

"She can get up to go the bathroom, right?" I asked sarcastically as we walked up the stairs. Mom threw me a Level One glare and then made me carry both of the bags we had brought along.

"Haley, it's Sarah and Rachel," Mom called out as we continued up.

I hadn't seen her since the previous year when she had come to the musical. She was still a beautiful and blond woman with a nice smile, but even laying on the bed I could see the big bulge of her pregnant belly. Haley was on her side, still in pajamas, with the covers half pushed down.

I dropped the bags and watched Mom go sit on the bed by Haley's feet, deliberately in her line of sight.

"How are you feeling today?" Mom asked.

"Going stir crazy," Haley answered, rolling her eyes. "Aaron tries, and he's so sweet about it, but he doesn't do the laundry correctly and hovers whenever he's home. And I just read my last new book today."

"You mean you aren't enjoying your husband waiting on you hand and foot?" Mom teased. "We brought some books to tide you over and I'll see about salvaging your laundry before I leave. Also, I have some other goodies for you."

I brought the bags over and sat on the floor so Haley could still see me.

"How are you, Rachel?" Haley asked.

I shrugged. "Okay. Kinda thinking I don't ever want to have kids."

Mom and Haley both laughed, but that was mostly why I said it. If there's one thing I've learned, being both Dad's and Mom's daughter, is that laughter is a wonderful stress reliever.

"For your entertainment, I brought more books," Mom said and gestured to the heavier of the two bags. "And there are more where they came from. Some romance, some mystery, some adventure, a nice variety."

From the other bag, Mom pulled out two odd looking pillows that each had a flap of fabric sewn on with matching Velcro strips on the flaps.

"This will be your new best friend," Mom explained. "I've had it since I was pregnant with my second son. The Velcro lets you adjust the space between the pillows and gives you front and back support. Once little Hotchner is here, it's perfect for nap time and prevents rolling. See?"

Mom helped Haley carefully sit up and slipped the connected pillows underneath her side so that one pillow was at the small of her back and the other was underneath her belly. Haley groaned in relief when she lay back down.

"Oh, you're a life-saver."

"I'll check the laundry, is there anything in the nursery that needs work still? I know how that delivery date can sneak up on you and I'm sure Aaron's job hasn't made getting ready easy."

Both of them shared a look that probably had something to do with being involved with FBI agents and what your life is like. I'll probably be sharing looks like that with the new baby once he or she grows up.

"I have all the supplies, but the changing station isn't set up yet," Haley said. "And my mother sent over more clothes which I haven't unpacked yet."

"Rachel, would you mind?" Mom asked.

I shrugged and followed when Mom stood up and walked down the hall.

The baby's room was blue, so I guess they knew it would be a boy. A white crib was already assembled in one corner and a wooden rocking chair with blue and white plaid cushions was next to it. A white changing station with a matching blue plaid pad was under the room's window. The carpeting was cream colored and soft. I could see some clothing already in the closet—more blue and white clothing, with some green, yellow, and orange thrown in the mix—but there were several bags of clothing as well as bags of diapers, wipes, and other stuff in the middle of the floor.

"Really, Rachel, do you mind?" Mom asked again.

"It's to help, right?" I asked back.

"Good girl. I'll be downstairs."

I started with the clothes and figured out to just put shirts with shirts, pants with pants, et cetera. Pajamas, I found, were located in the changing station. Then I put what had to be fifty diapers and forty containers of wet wipes into the shelves and drawers. It's really amazing how much such a small little person needs.

Mom was back by the time I was done and we went back into the bedroom.

"Men always forget fabric softener," Mom announced. She also had a tray with her that carried a plate of food.

"Thank you, Sarah, again, for doing all of this," Haley said. "And thank you, Rachel."

"I get to babysit, right?" I asked, thinking some spending money for music, iTunes, books, and make-up would be nice.

Haley smiled as Mom helped her to sit up. I kept a hand on the tray to keep it steady. "Of course," Haley told me.

We left after Haley had eaten the peanut butter on toast Mom made and checked that she had a glass of water, the phone, some snack bars, and the TV remote within easy reach on the nightstand. As we were driving home, I asked, "What happens if Haley has the baby when the team is away on a case?"

Mom paused for a long moment so that I wondered if she would answer at all or even had an answer. "We'll hope that doesn't happen and if it does… then it's a good thing we're here."

There are times when I really hate being right. Dad and Hotch and the others were in Connecticut for a lawyer's daughter who had been kidnapped when Haley began to feel contractions, still more than a month early. I knew enough from health class to know it wasn't good, but wasn't dangerous either. I only found out because Mom called the school and Mrs. Burke to drive me home.

I asked Alicia's mom to drive me to the hospital instead. Mom caught me in the hallway but let me into Haley's room anyway.

"Keep her company," Mom said. "She's on some medicine to keep the baby from coming just yet, but we want to keep her calm."

I stayed and talked to Haley about my classes, my music, and a little bit of my boy problems. She was a little loopy so I figured it wasn't important what I was saying as long as I kept up a steady steam of distraction.

She wasn't allowed to eat anything, so I ate a sandwich in the hall way before going back in. Sometime after dinner, her phone rang. It was Hotch. I couldn't help but eavesdrop as Haley talked him out of leaving the case to come back.

Either the drugs were wearing off or she was dealing with them better, but Haley saw my face when she hung up.

"Rachel? What's wrong?"

I didn't look at her as I asked, "Why didn't you ask him to come home?"

Staring at my fingernails as I was, I didn't see Haley's reaction.

"You've wanted your dad to come home sometimes, don't you?" she guessed.

I looked up quickly and nodded before looking down again. "Don't you want him here?"

"Of course I do. I want him here to see his son born if that's what happens. I want him here to hold me. I miss him every time he's gone. But what he does is important. Aaron, your dad, the rest of their team, what they do is important. And asking him to leave his team and to abandon a kidnapped child or give up chasing an evil man, that would be selfish."

"So, I'm selfish, then, whenever I want Dad home with me?" I asked.

This time, Haley waited for me to look up and meet her eyes before she answered me. "Wanting him home, safe, isn't selfish. That's normal. Healthy even. All right?"

"Yeah. I think so."

The drugs worked and Haley didn't have the baby that night. Dad, Hotch, and everybody got home two days later and Jack Hotchner was born less than twenty four hours after that. Mom, Dad, and I visited them at the hospital and I got to hold Jack for a few minutes. He was so tiny I was nervous I would squash him if I held on too hard.

Mom cooed over him and fussed over Haley. Hotch sat by her side and I remembered what she said about missing him whenever he was gone. I was no profiler, but I thought it was pretty obvious that he missed her, too.

But really, I watched Dad as he held Jack with easy confidence, rocking him to sleep in his arms. I wondered if that's how he was with me as a baby, or if that's how he had been with my half-brother who I had never met.

I wondered how long it would take for Jack to realize what his dad did for a living and then how long before Jack was left wishing his dad was home with him instead of saving other people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: There's a deleted scene for this episode for the DVD box set that's Hotch and Haley on the phone as she's in the hospital and convincing him to stay on the case, so I didn't make that up. 
> 
> Bed rest for a pregnancy is actually a little scary. My aunt had to go on bed rest at the end of her first trimester and her baby was eventually induced three months early; luckily she runs to having big babies so the little guy came out around five pounds. So, that's why all the characters were concerned for Haley, even as late in the game as she was when she was confined.
> 
> I took some liberties with Hotch and Haley's family members because they are hardly mentioned to begin with. I know I've got Sean mentioned as he's ready for law school, Haley's mother is mentioned exactly once in passing, and I figured Haley's sister Jessica isn't living close to them yet because why else would it be mentioned when she does show up that she's visiting for several days? So, that's my reasoning anyway. At some point, I figure Jessica moves to the Virginia/DC area and I couldn't think of what else to do with Haley's mom when we don't see her or hear about her in "Slave of Duty" in season five. Again, that's just what I've come up with. If anyone has other ideas about what to do with these characters, I would love to hear them.


	9. Patter

Related episode: 1.6 L.D.S.K.

Patter-a technique in Italian opera where a large amount of text is delivered in a short period of time

"So, we need to go shopping for some cute clothes," Alicia said at lunch one day in early November. "I heard from Lizzie that Jenny Thiele might be hosting a party."

"And why would Jenny invite either of us?" I asked with one eye brow raised. In addition to being a gossip, Jenny is also rather stuck up. Alicia and I weren't in the popular crowd for all the three of us were in band together and Jenny and I were in orchestra, we aren't all that close.

"Lizzie said that Jenny wants to show off the new entertainment system her parents bought," Alicia explained. "She wants everyone to see it."

"Well, let's wait and see if the party is actually happening, and if we're actually invited, before we worry about it," I suggested.

"But come on," Alicia protested. "Let's at least go out and get some new makeup to feel pretty, even if we just go to a movie or something."

As it happened, Jenny had placed a party flier in everyone's music slot—Alicia and the other band kids would find them tomorrow—and it did mention the new entertainment system. I was already thinking of asking Mom to take us to the mall on Saturday to shop.

I had to take the bus home since Mom was working that afternoon and Dad was on a case in Des Plains. We had come to a compromise of sorts about his cases. He would still only tell me where he was going and a little something about what he thought he'd be dealing with and not much more. But if I asked questions, he would answer honestly. I don't think Mom was too happy about that, but I'm pretty sure she realized it was better than our fighting about it.

Dad hadn't sent a text that he was on his way home, so I was really surprised to walk into the house and find him and Reid playing chess in the living room.

"Hi, Dad, hey, Reid," I greeted as I dumped my back pack and flute case at the stairs down to my room and took off my shoes.

"Hi, Rae, how was school?" Dad asked, his eyes never leaving the game.

"Pop quiz in history," I answered. "And I got invited to a party."

And just like that, Reid and chess was dismissed from Dad's mind in a second. He frowned.

"What kind of party? Who's hosting? What will be happening?"

"Well, gee, Dad, I heard it was a strip club theme party with a couple of dancing poles, some Jell-o shots, and crack to spice things up. Oh, and it's some college boys who invited us."

Now both Dad and Reid were staring at me like I was the chessboard and I burst out laughing.

"Can't profilers tell when someone is being sarcastic?" I asked archly. Reid quirked a smile and relaxed where Dad didn't, but hey, I wasn't Reid's daughter. "It's a party with music and movies, Jenny Theile from orchestra is hosting, and if I'm lucky, there will be only a small dose of teenage angst and all around good fun."

Dad waved his hand in my direction, like he could make all this go away if he tried hard enough. "No, I don't like it. You're too young."

"Dad," I protested. "Nothing bad is going to happen."

"Do you know how many people think that before something bad happens to them?"

"I'm not one of your victims, Dad!"

While Reid tried desperately to disappear into the couch, Dad and I faced off. I don't know how it is for other kids and their parents, but I know that my dad can be scary when he wants to be; I have no doubt that he can intimidate suspects into confessing. But as both of my parents point out, I am pretty stubborn and I'm used to Dad, so I hold my own, especially when I think he's overreacting.

I stood there with my arms crossed over my chest, waiting for Dad to break. Eventually, Dad broke the silence. "Ask your mother."

I tried not to beam from my triumph. Mom wouldn't mind the party at all. I sat down on the floor opposite of the couch and the chessboard and finally saw the bruise on Reid's cheek and how stiffly he was perched on the cushions.

"What happened?" I demanded.

Dad and Reid looked at me and then I saw Reid look at Dad. I waited for an answer as Dad gave Reid a nod in the affirmative.

"Hotch kicked me," Reid explained with a rueful smile. I just about felt my eyes pop out of my head. "We were being held hostage by our unsub in an ER and Hotch was trying to get me his back up gun on his ankle."

"So the only way to do that was to kick you?" I asked, absolutely confused.

"Well, it worked," Reid said. There was a flash of something in his eyes.

"Did you shoot him?" I asked quietly, about half certain Dad would cut Reid off at this point. But he didn't, probably to avoid another staring contest.

"Yes," Reid answered just as quietly.

"Are you okay?"

Reid smiled and shrugged one shoulder. "I think so."

I swallowed down the panic I felt, thinking about him and Hotch cornered by an unsub, a term Dad had explained when he told me more about profiling. It felt silly to worry now that they were obviously home and safe, but I took a few deep breaths anyway.

"I'm glad you're okay," I said after I felt like my voice wouldn't shake.

I left Dad and Reid to their game and made some brownies from scratch before pulling out my homework. I had started a Crock pot full of onion soup this morning before school so dinner was mostly covered.

Dad beat Reid, no surprise, and then questioned me more about Jenny's party. I knew I had gotten off too easy earlier. I think he eventually came around to the idea after picking up on how much I didn't like Jenny and was really only going for Alicia's sake. He still told me to ask Mom.

I thought it was a normal evening for us until Mom came home. She walked in, kissed both me and Dad on the cheek, and then turned to Reid to give him a hug. Mom felt that Reid needed mothering and tried to hold herself back as much as possible. But Reid went pale and rushed for the bathroom down the hall.

"Jason, what's wrong?" Mom asked, taking a step to follow him. Dad's arm shot out and grabbed her.

Dad told her what had happened and I learned a little bit more this time around.

"He shot Dowd between the eyes and killed him. This is the first time he's ever killed anyone."

"But he was okay until now," I pointed out.

Mom winced. "I smell like the hospital."

She and Dad seemed to understand that, but I was still lost. "What does that have to with it?"

"Smell is actually the sense most closely linked to memory," Reid said, coming back to join us. "More than sight or hearing."

"Reid, I'm sorry, I'll go get cleaned up," Mom said, disappearing down the hall to her room.

"You remember what I told you," Dad said to Reid.

"Yeah," Reid nodded. "I'm better, it just hit me."

On impulse, I gave Reid a hug and then backed off quickly. Reid was blushing and Dad was smiling.

It wasn't until I was grating cheese over the individual crocks of soup and croutons that it hit me that Reid had killed someone. The geeky guy who was less than ten years older than I was, still got excited about Halloween and was an expert on just about everything had killed another person. I wasn't naïve enough to think that Dad had never killed anyone, but I always tried not to think about it.

"Are you hungry?" I asked, jerking myself out of my line of thought. "I have more bread if you still aren't feeling well."

"I'm starving, actually," Reid admitted.

Mom came out by the time the cheese had melted into bubbly, golden brown gooeyness and put together a Caesar salad to serve along side the soup. We sat down and shared dinner, catching up on everyone's day. Mom okayed Jenny's party and agreed to take Alicia and me shopping over the weekend.

Reid helped me with my chemistry homework while Mom and Dad sat by themselves. I've never really understood how they work. When I was little, of course I asked why my mom and dad weren't married and why we didn't live together. When I was little, they would tell me it was complicated and that they both loved me very much. When I ask now, I still pretty much get the same answer. So for the most part, I just try to accept the fact that my parents aren't married, live at separate addresses, love me, and are very good friends at the very least.

"Hey, Reid, why did you become an FBI agent?" I asked. I'd always wondered.

"Well, I was finishing my third doctorate when I met your dad on campus," Reid started. "I was attending one of his recruiting seminars and stayed to talk with him afterward. He convinced me to apply to the academy the next fall."

Reid had been learning too much from Dad about stalling. "But why did you want to be an FBI agent?" I rephrased myself. "I mean, you're so smart, you could do just about anything."

Reid sighed and thought for a long moment. I finished another equation in my notebook, looking up at him every few seconds to let him know I still wanted an answer.

"There's always something new to learn in profiling," Reid finally said. "And what I learn I can use to help people in a way that very few others can."

"And do you feel like that today after what happened?" I asked.

"Yes," Reid answered without hesitation.

I stared at him for awhile and tried to see past the grad-student image. I think I finally saw what Dad had seen years ago.

"You know what, Reid? You're pretty special."

I grinned as he blushed. Reid tucked his hair behind his ear and bent over my notebook again. "Good work on that one. Now try the other one."

After eating brownies with ice cream for dessert, Dad and Reid left for the night. I finished the rest of my homework and then called Alicia to fill her in on the party and shopping. Fifteen minutes of excited squealing later, I was able to hang up.

"Sweetie, are you and dad okay?" Mom asked before I could go downstairs to my room.

"He didn't want me to go to the party and compared me to a victim," I said honestly and bluntly. If anyone could understand my frustration, it would be Mom.

"Oh, Rachel," Mom sighed. "You know it's because he wants you to be safe."

"I know that," I repeated in exasperation. "But why does he always have to pull that card when he's trying to win an argument? It's annoying."

"I know," Mom agreed with her own exasperated smile. "He's like that with me, sometimes, too. But it's always because he cares."

"He's paranoid," I groused.

Mom didn't correct me. She asked after my homework and then kissed me goodnight. I took a shower and then sat on my bed, listening to some Mozart, and played some Solitaire to try and calm my mind.

I hadn't told Alicia that I had almost been denied going to the party, or that my dad had felt the need to remind me that bad things happen to normal people all the time, or that I had been forced to change my view on Reid now that he's killed someone. Well, maybe not that so much because Reid was still like a big kid in a lot of ways to me and mostly I felt sorry that he had had to kill someone and grateful that he was alive.

But she wouldn't have understood why Dad had said what he did and why it annoyed me. Dad sees so much go wrong in the world and I know it would probably kill him if anything like that ever happened to me or Mom. But what annoyed me was how hypocritical he could get, wanting to keep his work and his home separate, and then saying that kind of thing to me.

But I had shopping to look forward to and a party to attend in a week. So I guess that I can deal with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone besides me think Gideon would be a paranoid dad? Just wait until I post the next chapter. P.S. this is probably one of my absolute favorite episodes from season one, mostly for Reid telling Hotch that he kicks like a nine year old girl.
> 
> Also, if you're looking for an example of 'patter' you've probably heard it already. Has everyone heard the aria where it goes: Fiiiiii-ga-ro, Figaro, Figaro, Figaro, Fiiiii-ga-ro. The part of the song where most people mumble because the words are coming too fast, that's patter. Ironically, this aria is not from the opera, The Marriage of Figaro, by Mozart. It's from The Barber of Seville by Rossini and came almost a century later. What happened is that the libretto (the script) of both operas are from the same author who used the same characters. Barber comes first where Figaro helps the Count to rescue the imprisoned young woman whom he later marries. Marriage is years after when Figaro, now the manservant of the count, wants to marry the Countess' maid. Just a fun little bit of trivia. Also ironically, I was explaining this to my sister one day and literally the next day she was playing a trivia game and was able to answer the question about who the barber was in The Barber of Seville (answer, Figaro).


	10. Verse and Refrain

Verse and Refrain-a musical form for vocal music where the music for the verses is the same with different words and the refrain which comes between verses is the same music and the same words

"I can't believe I'm doing this," I muttered and looked again in my mirror. Really, I was only going to Jenny's party because Alicia wanted to, but here I was, still obsessing over what I was wearing to said party. I had my standard denim skirt that hits just above my knees and a new white shirt with a deep scoop neck and a bronze, silver, and gold pattern of flowing vines. It was just a little too revealing to me, but Alicia had convinced me to buy it, so I had a black tank top underneath and black Capri length leggings to keep my legs warm. Bronze colored ballet flats and a matching denim jacket finished the outfit.

I left my hair down long which has just enough wave to it that it doesn't count as completely straight. In addition to the new shirt, I had a new bronze headband and eye shadow. Some pink lip gloss and a bit of lavender body spray rounded off the whole look. Just because I didn't want to go, didn't mean I didn't want to look nice.

Alicia came out of my bathroom and squeaked in excitement. "Oh my God, you look fabulous. We are going to have so much fun tonight!"

Alicia was petite still and had found a black floral patterned dress that showed off enough leg to make her look taller. It was sleeveless so she also had a cropped black sweater and gave herself an extra boost with black heels. Alicia's blond hair was curly and she had taken little butterfly clips to tiny portions of hair and twisted away from her face, showing off her hazel eyes with dark brown eye shadow.

We were at Alicia's house so that Mrs. Burke could drive us over and then pick us up at 10:45 so that I was home by eleven per Dad's rules. Mom and Dad had had a bit of a hard time agreeing on the party, what I could bring, what I had to bring, who would drive, how often I had to check in, and how late I could stay. I guess that since Mom had already gone through the teenage years of three boys instead of Dad's one, she was a little more used to the party thing. Plus, Dad was just plain paranoid.

"Come on," Alicia said, grabbing my hand. "If we leave now, we can be fashionably late."

I rolled my eyes.

In Jenny's drive way, Mrs. Burke gave Alicia her own instructions to be polite and have fun. Other kids were being dropped off as well, either by parents or older siblings from the looks of it. Some of the older kids who could drove themselves. I couldn't help but overhear similar parting remarks from parents as Mrs. Burke.

My instructions had been something like this: keep my cell phone in my pocket at all times so that I could feel it vibrate if the music were too loud to hear it ring. My purse with my student ID, list of emergency numbers, emergency money, Tylenol, Kleenex, and lip gloss was not to leave me at any time. I could only drink cans or bottles that I open myself. I could not go home with anyone who wasn't Mrs. Burke. If I wanted to leave early, I could call Dad. I had to text him every hour to let him know I was all right.

Yeah. I know. Those are actually the highlights of Dad's lecture. Mom finally told him that there was no need to scar me for life and make me as paranoid as he is.

Jenny's dad is a senator in DC, so their house is huge and modern, with all the bells and whistles. Jenny has probably been given everything she's ever asked for, which would explain why she's an absolute princess. The only reason she invited everyone in band, orchestra, and I later learned, choir, is to show off and fill up the house, giving the illusion that she has more friends than she actually does and to make herself the center of attention.

Oh God. I am becoming my dad.

The main floor of the house was three times the size of my house with expensive furniture and art. Alicia and I followed the sound of the music to the back of the house where we found the new entertainment system and what seemed like half the school, but was really about a hundred kids. Maybe more. The new system was being put to use with a music video on the large flatscreen TV, feeding the surround sound stereos with sub-woofers. There were tables of food and drinks, couches and chairs had been pushed to the walls to clear an area of floor for dancing.

It was loud, crowded, and hot and I felt really uncomfortable.

"Isn't it great?" Alicia shouted in my ear.

"Sure," I shouted back.

We went to the food and drink table first. Alicia took a cup of punch from the bowl but I grabbed a can of Coke, per Dad's rules. I had already sent him a text saying we had gotten there safely.

When it comes to those of us who play classical music most of the time—classical makes up about 60% of our concert repertoire—we fall into two categories: those who then listen to popular music on their own, and those who just stay with classical. I'm in the latter group and Alicia—and obviously, Jenny—are in the first. But I let Alicia drag me into the dance area and tried to just feel the beat without my ears ringing.

Suddenly, someone else's hands were on my hips behind me. I spun around, ready to deck whoever it was, and stopped just in time to recognize Mark Amborn's dreamy brown eyes.

"Hey," he said, just loud enough to be heard. Of course, he had leaned in to speak in my ear. "I was hoping you would come."

"Yeah," I said when I couldn't think of anything else to say.

"So, dance with me?"

I didn't answer except by putting my hands on his shoulders, his hands going back to my hips, pulling me closer. I could hear my heart pounding over the beat of the music and caught a whiff of his shampoo and deodorant. Oh, wow. Soon, I was close enough that I had to wrap my arms around his neck, feeling the skin underneath his hair.

I lost track of Alicia, I lost track of time, dancing with Mark. It was amazing. But when I felt an insistent buzz against my thigh that wasn't Mark's hand, both of which were still on my hips and lower back, I cursed under my breath.

"Sorry, but I'll be right back," I excused myself, pulling out of Mark's arms and taking out the cell phone to let him know why.

"I'll be waiting."

I shivered despite the heat of crowded bodies.

I pushed my way past people until I found the door that led out to the patio. Lights were on and there were at least twenty people enjoying the outside speakers, but it was much quieter than inside. I caught the call on the last ring.

"Dad," I said.

"You were supposed to text me twenty minutes ago," he told me sternly. "That was our agreement."

"I'm sorry, but I lost track of time," I admitted.

"What are you doing?" Dad demanded.

"Just dancing, I promise," I answered in exasperation. "God, Dad, calm down."

"Watch it or this will be your last party."

"I'm sorry," I apologized immediately. "I'll set an alarm on my phone for the next check in. Okay?"

"Don't miss it or I'm coming to get you."

After he hung up, I said, "I'm having a great time, Dad, thanks for asking."

"So, he's still pretty protective of you," a voice said to my left.

I turned and saw Michael Garrett, dressed as he usually was with his long hair a little unkempt, waiting next to a brightly colored lantern.

"Michael, I didn't know you were here," I said, walking over. Actually, I was more surprised that Jenny hadn't skipped his invitation despite his place in band, and then I realized that Jenny didn't care who was here, the more the better.

"I didn't have anything better to do," Michael answered casually. He looked around and back into the house. "Sure is something."

"Yeah," I agreed, suddenly awkward. Had he seen me dancing with Mark? Why did I care?

"I'd like to be friends," Michael blurted out.

I looked at him in surprise.

"I don't have a lot of friends," he admitted. "Well, any friends."

"Why me?" I asked.

"Because you don't look down on me." He looked down at his feet. "But, if you don't think it would be a good idea… You know, with your dad, or because of Mark."

"That's not it," I assured him. "I'm just surprised, that's all."

He smiled for probably the first time I've ever seen. It was hesitant and didn't quite reach his eyes, but it softened his face. It was a nice smile. I smiled back.

"We're friends," I told him.

"Then remember to set that alarm so your dad doesn't show up with the rest of the FBI," Michael reminded me and then walked off.

"Thanks," I called after him.

I must have stood out there a long time, contemplating my life, when Mark came out to find me. He had my jacket that I had left inside and put it around my shoulders.

"Hey, I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever come back," he joked.

"Sorry, I was talking to my dad," I explained, leaving Michael out of it.

"He's FBI, right? That's pretty cool."

Mark thought it was cool like almost everyone else. Michael hadn't done that and just wanted to pass along a tip. I couldn't stop comparing them.

"He's just over protective," I said. "Wants me to keep checking in with him."

"Oh, yeah, that makes sense. Want to come back inside? There's another room where they're watching Pirates of the Caribbean."

"Sounds great."

Mark took my hand and led me back inside, stopping at the food table and handed me a cup of punch. I smiled apologetically and pointed to another can of Coke. Mark didn't ask why and I didn't explain.

There was a smaller den room with another large flat screen, though not as large as the new one, where Orlando Bloom waited in the front hall of the governor's mansion. About twenty five kids were already there on couches, chairs, and pillows on the floor. Mark went to a free spot on a couch and I followed, having to sit close to him until I was pressed up against his side.

I sent off my text when the alarm went off and finished watching the movie with Mark. Some of the other kids in the room started making out, but while Mark kept an arm around my shoulders, he didn't make any other move.

"I have to get going," I whispered when my watch read it was 10:40.

Mark stood and helped me to my feet, walking me to the door where I already spotted Alicia leaving the dance area.

"I'm glad you came," Mark said, still holding my hand.

"I'm glad I came, too," I replied.

He leaned in and kissed my cheek and then walked back to the larger room. I stood numb for about a second and then walked quickly to the door where Alicia waited.

"That was so freaking cool," Alicia gushed as we walked outside. She looked at me sidelong with way too much glee. "I see you were having a good time."

"Yes, I did," I answered shortly.

Alicia didn't get the chance to say anything else since we had reached her mom's car. Mrs. Burke asked the standard questions and we gave the standard answers. Mom was asleep already when I was dropped off home, but I walked into her bedroom and gave her a good night kiss. She woke up halfway and also asked me the standard questions before slipping right back into sleep.

I sent my last text to Dad, saying that I was home safe and sound, wondering why he hadn't camped out in the living room to ambush me. But Mom had probably talked him out of it.

I changed into pajamas and brushed out my hair before laying in bed with Hannah curled up by my side.

Between whatever was happening between me and Mark, and Michael, and what Dad would do if he knew about it with either of them, I was in deep trouble. But for all the confusion I was feeling, I had had a good time, so maybe it would all work out.

I got one last text from Dad before I fell asleep. Good night, Rae. I hope you had fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, did not mean to post this a day after I said, but if anyone else knows how crazy a house can be when you've moved in for only a few months, and then the electrician and the bathroom renovator show up on the same day...yeah.
> 
> As you can tell, this chapter is not connected to an episode in any way. But, I hope you'll agree that it was still worth it, and some important developments occur. But this is pretty much the only chapter like this for the first season, all the rest are episode-related.
> 
> Now, I feel I should mention that while I'm still making Gideon a paranoid father, the rules he sets out for Rachel are pretty much what my dad told me as I was going through high school. My dad was a cop for 28 years, so I use that a lot with Rachel's relationship with Gideon. For any young woman out there reading this, the rules about drinks especially will help keep you safe. Victims are not to blame when crimes are committed against them, but there are so many ways to prevent those actions that many young people either don't know about, or don't do. Sorry, that's my little soap box moment.


	11. Verdi

Related episodes: 1.7 The Fox, 1.9 Derailed 

Verdi- an Italian composer of opera primarily, Verdi suffered the loss of his daughter early in his life and wrote strong father/daughter relationships into his operas such as Aida and Rigoletto

One night, I woke up to find Dad sitting next to my bed in the dark. According to the clock, I had been asleep for an hour after reading late. I think all parents watch their kids sleep, especially when they're younger, but when Dad does, it's like when he hugs me really tight after a case, like it's assurance that I'm okay.

"Dad?" I asked sleepily, leaning up on one elbow and squinting in the dark.

"Shhh, Rae, it's okay," Dad whispered, reaching out to place a hand on my head. "Go back to sleep."

I blinked several times. "What's wrong?"

"Just a hard case, sweetheart. I only wanted to check on you."

Dad moved to caress my cheek and after a few minutes I fell back asleep. When I woke up that morning, Mom was already at work and Dad was sitting in the living room with a cup of coffee.

"Did you stay here all night?" I asked, tying the sash on my robe tightly. A storm had rolled in during the night with wind and heavy rain pounding against the windows.

"Yeah," Dad answered, still sounding tired. I didn't need to ask if he had slept.

When I was closer, I noticed that his coffee mug was mostly full and it looked like it had gotten cold. I took the mug from him and walked back to the kitchen. The coffee pot was half full and still on the warming plate so I guess that Mom had had some before she left, too. I set the kettle to boil some water and got out packets of hot chocolate and oatmeal. Once the kettle whistled, I made the hot chocolate for myself and a bowl of oatmeal for each of us, adding brown sugar and cream to one bowl and brown sugar and cinnamon to the other. I poured another cup of coffee, added cream and a little sugar, then placed everything on a tray with two bananas and spoons.

I put the tray down on the coffee table in front of Dad, taking the brown sugar and cream oatmeal to eat while Dad sat still. After a moment, Dad started eating, too, and we had breakfast together while the rain crashed against the house. It was Saturday, so neither of us was in any rush.

"Thank you, Rae," Dad said when he was down to sipping his coffee.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked.

Dad sighed and finished his coffee before answering. "There was a man who was killing whole families, even the children."

"Why?" I asked.

Dad wrapped his arm around me and pulled me close. I scooted in and put my head against his shoulder.

"He wanted to make the fathers watch as their children and wives were killed, to feel failure," Dad explained.

I shivered and Dad squeezed.

"I shouldn't tell you these things," Dad muttered.

"I ask," I argued. "I want to know."

"I still shouldn't."

"You used to tell me as a little girl that talking about things makes it better," I reminded him.

Dad sighed and gave me an extra squeeze.

I stayed in my pajamas—Dad had changed at some point last night into jeans and a sweatshirt—and Dad and I stayed in to watch TV. I know he would have preferred his favorite stress reliever, Charlie Chapman, but those were at his apartment, so we settled on Clue with Tim Curry. We made pumpkin bread and then watched Tom Hanks in Turner and Hooch with a huge bowl of popcorn for lunch. We didn't talk anymore about his case.

When Mom came home, Dad and I hadn't managed anything more productive, so we ordered Chinese and ended with The Birdcage, starring Robin Williams and Nathan Lane. I don't know if it had been a hard day for Mom, but it's not like her days were ever easy, so she was always all for a night of comfort and stress relief.

I was walking downstairs to my room when I heard Mom and Dad talking in hushed tones.

"He would live in their house for days and then kill them one by one," Dad was saying. "And he killed the children first so that the father could watch."

I shivered just thinking about it.

"He said that the fathers didn't fight once their families were slaughtered. It would break them."

"Don't start that, Jason," Mom whispered harshly. "You can't compare yourself to the victims that you come across. You are not them. We are not them."

Dad sighed. "I know that. I know that."

I always thought that Dad was just trying to win arguments or tell me what to do whenever he mentioned his victims to me. I hadn't realized that he reminded himself of what could happen to ordinary people himself.

And I couldn't help but think that if anything happened to me or Mom, it might break Dad. He had come so close after Boston, and not to sound callous or anything, that had been losing colleagues.

"Do you ever get the feeling like you are the most precious thing in the world to your parents?" I asked Alicia the next week at school.

"Precious like, my own, my precioussssss?" Alicia asked with her crappy Gollum impression.

"Come on, you know what I mean."

Alicia turned serious and shrugged. "I don't know. I guess so. Why?"

I shook my head. "Just, the way my dad looks at me sometimes, like I'm the only thing keeping him together."

"Look, Rachel, your dad has issues," Alicia pointed out. "I mean, I know that cops who are parents are supposed to be super protective and all, but your dad really takes it far. You remember when he wouldn't let you go out at all because of that psycho killer going around?"

I almost asked Alicia to clarify which psycho killer she was talking about since I could think of several in the last few years. But that was probably more than Alicia needed to know.

"He sees a lot of bad things happen to good people," I said in his defense. You know, like it's okay for me to complain about my dad but no one else gets to do it.

Alicia rolled her eyes. "But come on. What are the odds of anything happening to one of us?"

I decided not to point out that I could easily ask someone who knew statistics like other people know their phone numbers.

"There's my mom, I gotta go."

"Bye."

It wasn't until more than a month later that I realized that Dad might feel the same way about his team members. It was an absolute shock to me when I spotted Reid standing next to an antique land yacht in the school parking lot one afternoon.

"You drive?" I asked. I had never seen him drive before.

"I drive," he answered defensively. "Just not often. Did you know that 84% of automobile accidents…"

I blocked him out after that. I was about a year away from my driver's license and I didn't want Reid's statistics to ruin it for me.

I didn't need to ask why he was picking me up. Mom had taken a week's vacation to visit my half-brother John and his wife for an early holiday. Dad had been staying with me during the night and when he had gone out on an unexpected case, I had an unexpected sleepover at the Burke's. They had come home yesterday, but since it had been late in the day, this would be my first night home.

"Let me guess," I said as I slid into the shotgun sheet after loading my back pack, flute case, and suitcase into the backseat. "Dad is staying late."

"He has some extra paperwork for this case," Reid answered. "I volunteered to drive you home."

There was an odd tone in his voice that I heard but couldn't identify. Also, if it had been a normal case, Dad would have just asked Mrs. Burke to drive me home and I'd be by myself for a few hours before he got home. That Reid had volunteered and Dad agreed meant something had happened. "What was so special about this case? You were in Texas, right? Some guy went berserk on a train?" At least, that was all that Dad had told me in his texts, except the berserk part. That I paraphrased.

"Actually, he was a brilliant doctor of mathematics who suffered from paranoia," Reid explained. "One of his delusions was that the government was out to get him, so when the train was stopped, he thought that his imaginings were confirmed and attacked."

Yeah. There was definitely more going on than that because Reid couldn't have been acting more suspicious if he were trying to act like Scar from The Lion King.

"And then what happened?" I asked once it seemed that Reid was done sharing for the day.

"We stopped him," Reid said shortly which is as close to rude as I've ever heard him.

I noticed that Reid's hands were white on the steering wheel and he was keeping his eyes on the road without glancing at me once. I decided that it would be in my best interest if I didn't bother him the rest of the time he had our lives in his hands.

When Reid walked behind me into the house after I unlocked the door, I guessed that his volunteering had come with instructions to stay with me until Dad got home. So, I put my things away, fed Hannah—who had been looked after by Mrs. Rectoris, our neighbor while I was away—and got out the chess board and a deck of cards. Reid set out the chess pieces, claiming white for himself and leaving me with black. I've never won a game of chess with Reid, or a game of poker for that matter, but I've found that playing him or my Dad and losing all the time means that I end up beating just about everyone else.

I waited for our opening moves to pass when we settled into our mid-game strategies to ask about Texas again. "So, what happened that has Dad doing extra paperwork and you acting all cagey?"

Reid looked up from the board to meet my eyes briefly before looking down at his pieces again. He had three of my pawns and a knight and I had his bishop and one pawn.

"One of our team members was on the train when Dr. Bryar attacked," Reid explained, avoiding my eyes. "She was one of the hostages."

"Oh," I said quietly. "Was Dad really worried?"

"No," Reid answered too quickly and then claimed my other knight. "At least, he didn't look worried until I was about to go in."

I looked up from my next move in shock. "What, like, by yourself?" It didn't seem that long ago to me that Reid had been a hostage and forced to kill their unsub.

Reid quirked a small smile. "That was just about everybody else's reaction. Dr. Bryar believed that the government had placed a microchip in his arm and he wanted it removed. So, I pretended to remove it."

"Just how do you pretend to remove a chip from a man's arm?" I demanded, having more than the average knowledge of medical procedures compared to other teenagers.

"Magic."

I watched as Reid took up one of the poker chips next to the deck of cards and made it disappear from his hand. He was wearing a short sleeved button down and a sweater vest, so he couldn't have slipped it up his sleeves.

"How did you do that?" I demanded. "Show me."

Chess was utterly abandoned as Reid spent the next hour teaching me magic tricks and promising to teach me more. When I was able to consistently work the poker chip, Reid handed me a smaller quarter from his pocket to work with.

"Reid, I have to admit, you would make one really cool older brother," I said, pulling the quarter out from his hair.

Reid blushed as I knew he would, but there was a spark of something else in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," I blurted out immediately. "I didn't mean to say that or imply that you weren't cool before or I don't know…" I saw that Reid now was starting to look panicked. "I'll just shut up now. Forget I said anything."

"Rachel, no, it's not that," he rushed to assure me. "I know I'm not that cool and I don't mind that, that you would think of me like a brother. I don't have any siblings of my own and any I grew up with would probably hate me or resent me actually."

Considering how Reid was younger than me when he graduated high school, I could imagine that being true.

"But, why-?"

"Your dad," Reid interrupted. "He likes to keep work and family separate and he gets a little touchy about it at work."

"You mean like how he spent years keeping me in the dark about his job and what he does?" I pointed out. "How even now it's like pulling teeth to get him to answer my questions sometimes? Yeah, that's been working out real well for him, hasn't it."

Reid smiled a little.

"Come on, Reid. If Dad was so set on separation, why does he bring you over all the time?"

I had the rare pleasure of stopping genius Dr. Spencer Reid in his tracks. Now that was the best part of my day so far.

"I've never thought about it like that," he admitted. "Especially when he stops the others from calling him Dad."

I frowned. "You lost me."

"Elle, the agent who was on the train today, she called your dad, Dad, when he was insisting that she get checked out at the hospital. He told her not to and walked away."

"Why would she do that?" I asked. "And why does it bother him?"

"We joke on the team sometimes, that your dad and Hotch are the parents and the rest of us are the kids," Reid explained somewhat sheepishly. "I don't really know why it bothers him."

I shrugged when he looked at me as if I might know. I wouldn't have asked if I had known already and I've given up on trying to figure Dad out.

We switched to poker which gave me a chance to practice my bluffs if nothing else. Dad came home late enough that I had finished my homework, made grilled cheese sandwiches for me and Reid to eat and he was introducing me to Joss Whedon's Firefly.

I think Dad and Reid must have stayed even later talking because I woke up a little bit when Dad came in to kiss me good night.

"Dad, why don't you like that other agent calling you Dad?"

He sat on the bed next to me and sighed heavily. He didn't ask how I knew about that so I guess Reid had spilled the beans already. "You are my daughter. I am your father, not Elle's."

He said it so simply that I let it go and drifted off into sleep. Dad didn't lie so I know it was the truth. But with Dad, there is always more to the truth than what he says. That much I have figured out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This episode addresses a lot of topics that I believe are vital in foreshadowing which I think you all can pick up on.   
> Musical trivia: Verdi is probably one of the most important Italian composers in history. His works dovetailed a time of Italian history when they were turning all the little areas into an actual, unified country. His name, VERDI was even used as grafitti for political purposes, Vittorio Emannuel, Rei D'Italia. Also, Verdi composed an opera set when the Hebrew slaves were being oppressed by Egypt to symbolize the oppression the Italian peoples were experiencing at the time. One of the choruses from the opera is now the Italian national anthem. See, music truly does change the world.


	12. Development

Related episodes: 1.11 Blood Hungry 

Development- the second section of a movement in sonata form where the established melodies and themes are altered and changed

When I saw Dad walking on crutches, I didn't have a panic attack because Mom had already told me that he had gotten hurt sky diving, not from a case.

Dad likes to do something new every year; says it keeps him from falling into a routine. When I was eleven, we all went rock climbing together over summer vacation. He keeps his own list of things, but some years he lets me pick, like when I was fourteen, he took me to New York and we saw The Lion King on Broadway.

But I had absolutely no desire to hurl myself out of an airplane while it was still in flight and it turns out that I was right.

"It was only the landing," Dad insisted in defense of himself while Mom fussed and I smirked.

It made for a funny story to share at band the next morning at school. It was our last week before winter break, so most of our teachers were ramping up the material for finals when we got back. But since we had already had our winter concert, band and orchestra were study halls.

A lot of freshmen were freaked out since this was our first set of finals in our lives. I had gotten a little stressed about a month earlier until Dad and Mom talked to me and talked me through what to expect. Then Dad offered me my own Ph.D. level tutor for chemistry and algebra, my two least favorite subjects. I didn't worry about finals after that.

Alicia was not so lucky so she was reviewing whenever she could. Her parents always pressured her to get good grades, like straight A's, so tests of any kind send her spinning. Naturally, finals just made it worse. I was doing my best to help her out, but even though our English and history classes were the same, just different teachers and periods, I couldn't help her with her other classes. She took Spanish to my French, biology to my chemistry, and her parents had forced her into geometry when she should have been in algebra with me.

Needless to say, lunch conversations had died off recently, which is why I still try lighten the mood whenever I can and why Dad's rocky landing story was convenient. Seems to be one thing I'm really good at thanks to both of my parents.

And then Mark came up to me at my locker at the end of the day.

"Any plans for break?" he asked, leaning against the nearest locker with a charming smile on his face so that his dimples showed.

"Nothing too exciting," I answered, smiling back at him. "My parents and I just have a big dinner on Christmas Eve and go to church the next day. What about you?"

"Oh, yeah, me, too. But we go to my grandma's on Christmas Day for the whole family get together thing."

"Must be nice," I said softly.

I'm still not sure exactly what was happening around the time I was born. Mom was divorcing her husband, Jim Jacobs and since I've never really heard anything about him since, I've always thought that it was messy. On top of that, I know for a fact that my brother Scott pretty much hates Dad and has never really been nice to me. He calls Mom three times a year—Christmas, Mother's Day, and her birthday—and they're short calls. John, who I know the least well of those three, lives in San Francisco with his wife as an architect and can't travel that often. But he calls more frequently. Alan is all over Africa, part of Doctors Without Borders, so while I have an extensive postcard collection, we don't see or hear from him that often.

And while I have absolutely no idea what happened, Dad hasn't talked about Stephen in years and I've never met him.

So, yeah, family for me still means just Mom and Dad.

"So, anyway," Mark was saying. "I thought it might be fun to get together while school was out. Ice skating, or something."

"That sounds great," I said. "Give me a call."

In my head, I was wondering if I could get away with not letting Dad know about whatever outing happened.

Mom picked me up and as we drove home, she told me that Dad's team had gone away on a case.

"But I didn't get a text," I protested. "And what about his crutches?"

Mom chuckled. "Dad didn't send you a text since he has to stay here because of the crutches. We probably won't see him until the team gets home anyway, but he's technically still home."

"Bet that annoys him," I said.

"Maybe try not to antagonize him for the next few days," Mom suggested teasingly.

"But I was planning on getting a tattoo over Christmas break," I joked.

"Sorry, babe. No tattoos, no extra piercings, no dye jobs."

"No ice skating with a really cute boy?" I asked.

Mom glanced at me quickly before returning her eyes to the road. "Is this the boy from the party? Sax and track?"

"Yeah."

"Make it a group or double date and I'll help smooth it over with your dad."

"Can do."

Actually, Mom had told me earlier in the year when I had confided a little of my romantic woes that I would not be allowed to go on a real date until junior year, so the conditions she proposed were expected.

"And then I have pit band auditions after school on Wednesday," I said.

We didn't see Dad at dinner that night, not that we always did, but I figured he was staying late for the case. Given that the night was just us girls, I thought I would try my luck.

"Mom, what happened when I was born with your ex-husband?"

One thing in the kitchen Mom can do is bake, so we were working on a batch of chewy chocolate chunk cookies. For all she's a doctor, Mom doesn't get paranoid about eating cookie dough so only half of the batch was making it into the oven.

"Rachel, that's not something you need to know," Mom said at first.

"You sound like Dad," I accused.

A low blow, but it worked because Mom sighed. "All right. Grab that plate and turn off the oven. I'll get us some milk."

Mom was a stickler about nutrition and osteoporosis runs in our family. She waited until we were seated on the couch and I had Hannah in my lap before she spoke.

"Jim and I were having some problems when the boys were still young. We decided to do a trial separation and he moved out for a time while I stayed with John, Scott, and Alan.

"Meanwhile, your dad had just lost his wife. We had met in college and stayed in contact, so when I heard about Cynthia, I sent the boys to Jim and flew out to see your dad."

Mom hesitated and I absently remembered to chew the bite of cookie I had in my mouth. I waited, trying not to fidget for Mom to continue. I had never heard this much about my parents before.

"That was when you were conceived, Rachel," Mom admitted. She had given me the sex talk two years before we got in school so I filled in the blanks and then wished I could erase those images.

"Were you two in love that whole time?" I asked. "But you both married someone else."

Mom brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose and then ran that hand through her hair. "It's more complicated than that. We loved each other at a time when things were much simpler, but we had to go our separate ways. I married Jim and your dad married Cynthia, we moved on from each other."

"Until me," I said.

"Not exactly," Mom commented. "After the funeral and a little bit of time, I came back home. Then, I didn't tell your dad right away when I found out I was pregnant with you. When Jim came to me to say he wanted to finalize the separation and divorce, I told him about you and your father."

"Did Scott ever find out?" I asked, wondering if that would explain why he hates Dad so much and resents me.

"I told the boys after you were born," she admitted. "I had to explain why you were their sister, but not Jim's daughter. John was old enough to understand that you had nothing to do with why Jim and I divorced, Alan was too young to really understand, but Scott…"

"Hasn't gotten over it yet?" I filled in.

"No," Mom agreed. "He still hasn't forgiven me. He thought that Jim and I would get back together and that your dad got in the way."

"What about Stephen?" I asked. "He's Alan's age so he was what, nine, when his mom died?"

"I don't know everything that happened between your dad and his son. I never felt it was my place to ask. I know that Stephen was having a hard time and your dad was busy with his job, like always. So, it wasn't until he called me again that I told him about you. I was in my third trimester and your dad came out to see me and talk."

"Talk about me."

"Yes. We decided that with all four boys going through enough change and drama that we wouldn't add to it if we could help it. So he went back to Stephen and I stayed with John, Scott, and Alan. Once you were born, your dad would come out about once a month to see you."

"But then we moved when I was eight years old," I pointed out.

"I waited until all of my sons were off to school and grown before we moved so that you and your father could be closer to each other. Your dad felt that it was important for you to know both of your parents, but he didn't want to hurt Stephen or disrespect Cynthia's memory so soon. So, we waited until it was the right time and the treatment center offer was the perfect reason to move."

"Do you love each other?" I asked hesitantly.

"Maybe not in the traditional sense, but we will always love each other in some way or another," Mom tried to explain, but I could tell that it wasn't something she could ever make me understand. It did seem complicated and strange. "And we will always love you, no matter what. Just as your Dad loves Stephen and I still love all of my sons. That will never change."

I looked through my scrapbook later that night before I went to bed. There were pictures of John and Alan holding me as a baby and helping me learn to walk as a toddler. Nothing with Scott or Stephen for the respective reasons.

Sometimes, I really wish that my family was less complicated.

I knew that the case was over officially when Mom picked me up from pit band auditions. Everyone can try out for the spring musical—this year was The Music Man—but it was unlikely for a freshman to get anything significant, but we were all encouraged to try anyway. I figured I wouldn't get into the pit, so Alicia and I had plans to join one of the supporting crews.

"So, did Dad say he was bouncing off the walls by the end having to help from the sidelines?" I joked. Dad doesn't like the sidelines.

"He mentioned some frustration, yes," Mom answered with a smile. "Then Aaron Hotchner called me to say that the only person on their team more aggravated was the poor tech woman who had to put up with your dad in her office."

"Ouch."

Dad was with us for dinner that night and had actually gotten started on lasagna while Mom was picking me up. Unsurprisingly, Dad had already ditched the crutches, ignoring Mom's reproving look when she glared.

During dinner, Mom had to get up to answer the phone, and Dad waited for my full attention.

"I spoke to your brother," he said.

"Which one?" I asked slowly.

"My son, your brother, Stephen."

"That's a good thing, right?" I double-checked. "Or isn't it?"

Dad smiled. "No, it's a good thing. We haven't talked since he left for school, but we're going to work on it now."

I nodded firmly. "That is good."

Mom came to the doorway with the phone in her hand. "Rachel, it's Mark on the phone. He wants to talk about going ice skating next week with some other friends."

I leaped out of my seat to grab the phone, ignoring Dad's protest of, "No dates!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Yes, I finally outline how I conceived Rachel with what little canon I have to go with. Naturally, I took a few liberties with Gideon's family. I've got to think that since he still wears a wedding ring, he never got a divorce so I went with the only other option of killing his wife. I didn't want to repeat myself which is why Sarah and her husband are divorced. The various sons I fleshed out as much as I could now. They won't be huge in this story, but make a handful of appearances.


	13. Cello

Related episode: 1.14 Riding the Lightning

Cello- a four-stringed musical instrument of the string family, pitched lower than the viola but higher than the double bas

"I hear congratulations are in order," Michael said one day while we were studying in a corner of the library in the new semester.

Since the previous fall, he and I had discovered we had more in common than we had first thought. I mean, the music is obvious, though he was more eclectic in his tastes than my fairly strict classical with a little music theatre mixed in. Surprisingly, Michael liked to read, he just didn't like being told what to read. Best of all, we would just talk and listen without getting preachy on each other or feel too sorry for each other. Michael listened to me talk about what it was really like to have an FBI agent dad with all the missed birthdays and picking up the pieces after bad cases. In return, I learned why Michael's parents never got involved at school. His mom had run off seven years ago with the cable repair man and when his dad wasn't working as an electrician, he was drunk or passed out at home.

Michael actually skipped classes in order to sleep because he was working under the table at a car repair shop late into the night to make some of his own money; he was saving up to move out on his eighteenth birthday. He tried not to skip classes when he knew that something important was being covered and always showed up for quizzes, tests, and projects. It was just when unexpected things came up that he got in trouble.

So I've started to share my notes with him for the classes we had in common, though with different teachers or at different periods. Alicia didn't get why I was helping him, or even talking to him, and after a dozen times trying to explain it, I've given up.

"What congratulations?" I asked.

"Pit band for The Music Man," he elaborated, looking at me in surprise. "Didn't you see?"

"Yeah, I wasn't on the list," I said. "And freshmen hardly ever make it anyway."

"There's an updated list," Michael told me. "Anna Nelson caught walking pneumonia over Christmas break so she can't play for at least a month so your name was added."

I almost jumped up from our table to race to the auditorium door to see for myself, but Michael grabbed my hand and tugged me over to a near by computer. "School website should have the updated list, too," he explained.

Sure enough, I saw that Anna Nelson, a junior who played the flute, was no longer listed and my name was.

"Wow," I muttered. "That hardly ever happens."

"Well, you're good enough," was Michael's ringing endorsement.

"Gee, thanks."

Just before we were about to the table with our text books, my pocket vibrated. Considering the short list of people who had my number, I had a good guess who it was. Driving to Florida to interview a pair of death row inmates. Back in a few days. –Dad.

"Another case?" Michael guessed. He knew about the new arrangement between me and Dad about being told when and where he was going on cases.

"Yeah," I said. "He's going to interview some death row inmates in Florida. That's odd. They normally don't do interviews so last minute."

"Well, someone can be on death row for years before they're finally executed," Michael commented. "Did he say they were close to execution?"

"No. That would probably be deemed too much information for me," I pointed out ironically.

"We can always find out," he offered, pointing at the computer we had yet to leave. "I can't imagine there are that many death row inmates in Florida."

I thought about the last time Michael and I had gone digging online for one of Dad's cases and how much trouble I had been in for it. Then I shrugged; live and learn and all that. "Fire away."

It turned out that there were two death row inmates getting a lot of press attention today, Jacob and Sarah Jean Dawes who had murdered twelve young women and their own two year old son, Riley, when it looked like the police were on to them.

"How horrible," I whispered, reading the newspaper articles.

"Look, there's a new article with your dad in it."

The latest news was about the BAU team going in to interview Jacob and Sarah Jean before they were executed late the next night. It was rumored that the body of a potential thirteenth victim had prompted the interviews as the FBI hoped to determine if there were any others out there.

"How can a person do that?" Michael asked. He had found the article that detailed the victims' deaths.

"I don't really know," I said. "I think that's what Dad and the team try to figure out by talking with them."

I felt Michael shudder against me as we were sitting shoulder to shoulder in front of the screen. "It's scary to think that anyone is capable of doing something like this."

I looked at his face, but he was resolutely staring straight ahead and avoiding my eyes. A big part of me started thinking about what Michael wouldn't tell me about his father or his life at home. In a few short months, Michael had become as close a friend to me as Alicia, only he actually understood me better in a lot of ways. I could tell him whatever I learned from my dad about the horrible cases he worked and Michael hardly ever flinched.

"I think people are just as capable of being good," I said quietly, still watching him. "It's just the people who choose the easy way out or to be selfish that get all the attention."

I brought my hand up to his shoulder and squeezed and we sat in silence for long moments until Michael eventually put his own hand on top of mine and squeezed back.

The shrill, end of the period bell ringing jerked us back to our surroundings.

"Damn," Michael said under his breath as he stood up.

We walked back to our scattered books and notes, each of us gathering what was our own. As always, Michael walked me back to my locker as I switched out my texts for algebra. We both had our study hall/free period sixth period, separated for my algebra and his English, and then met up again in orchestra.

Before he could walk away, I caught his hand and waited for him to meet my eyes. "You'd tell me if anything serious was going on, right?"

Michael smiled, and it was a real smile, but it was small and a little bit sad. "Don't worry about me, okay? I've been taking care of myself for years before you." With one last squeeze of my hand, he was gone.

It wasn't until I was seated in class and pulling out my homework that I realized he hadn't really answered my question. Then I didn't get a chance to ask him again because he had skipped orchestra. Our teacher, Mr. Rose, was much stricter about attendance than Mrs. Kessler, so Michael could normally be relied on to show up in the afternoon before ducking out of his last period at least once a week to go work at the auto shop. I ignored the girly part of me that whispered Michael was avoiding me. Unfortunately, other people noticed Michael's unusual absence as well.

"You and your boyfriend have a fight?" Ashley Martin asked snidely. She plays cello and typically sat far on my left from where the handful of wind instruments were gathered.

"If you're referring to Michael, he's not my boyfriend and I have no idea why he's not here," I answered patiently. This wasn't the first time she had called Michael my boyfriend and she wasn't the only one to think so.

"I think it's just terrible the way you lead Mark on while you flirt with Michael," she went on. It was no secret that she, like half the female population of the underclassmen, had a crush on Mark and was jealous he was paying attention to me instead of them.

I rolled my eyes and waved my hand in a dismissing gesture I picked up from Dad. "Shoo, before I cut your strings."

Ashley huffed away just before Mr. Rose signaled one of the violins to play an A for us to tune. I shook my head at her back and pulled out my music with my right hand as my left hand held my flute and I played into our collective sound.

Dad sent me a text when they arrived at the prison; I guess the jet was down for repairs so they had driven all day. I surfed the web that night and saw there was no other news about the interviews in Florida except what I already knew. Two things creeped me out the most: the women outside the prison dressed to look like the victims and the fact that a mother had killed her own son so the toddler wouldn't slow them down.

Michael was in band the next morning, but I didn't get to talk to him then either because Mark was with me. Mark and I had gone out a few times in groups, like the ice skating over break, and movies, and a few trips to the mall and he always talked to me at band. We still hadn't kissed, but he was always putting his arm around me even as we were standing around or holding my hand as we walked. He had only asked once about Michael and seemed to accept when I told him we were only friends.

Michael never asked about Mark.

"I can't believe you made the pit band as a freshman," Alicia said at lunch that day—the new list was posted on the band room door for everyone to see that day. "And you've got the hottest guy in the school as a boyfriend. It's really hard to be your friend sometimes you know."

I shot her a pointed look. "Right. Thanks for telling me."

I found it odd that Michael was genuinely happy for me, or at least as happy as Michael could get, and Alicia chose to grouse about it. But I know that Alicia doesn't really mean it. I think.

Finally, I cornered Michael after orchestra—he showed up today—and wouldn't let him past me.

"You'll be late for French," he pointed out.

"Don't care," I answered. "Just promise you'd tell me if you ever needed help and I'll let it go."

He sighed and I did my best to stare him down. The warning bell rang and still neither of us moved. I felt like I was counting down the seconds when Michael slumped in defeat. "I promise that if I ever think I need help, I will tell you."

"I'll hold you to that," I promised him.

He smirked. "Yeah, I know that. Now run or you'll be late. No reason both of us should be delinquents."

Dad was home later that week. I had already seen in an online news report that both executions had happened as scheduled so I didn't ask him about that part of the case. There was one thing I wanted to know, though.

"Dad, why would someone kill their own child?"

We were playing chess at home after Mom had left for a fundraising event for the night. I didn't think the question was that startling, but Dad looked really surprised when I asked.

"You learned about Sarah Jean?" he asked.

"Yeah. It was all over the Internet," I explained.

Dad claimed a pawn before he answered. "There is no good reason for killing a child," he said heavily, not looking at me at all. "But it's possible for someone to do it, thinking their intentions are good."

"How does that work?"

Dad didn't speak again until twenty minutes later when he put me in checkmate. "If you want to find out, pack an overnight bag for this weekend, at least one nice outfit and car ride clothes."

"Are you going to tell me where we're going, what we're doing, and why I need to do this just to get an answer to my question?" I asked, fairly certain of the answer anyway.

I was right. "Wait for this weekend."

Dad woke me early Saturday morning, taking the bag I had packed the night before as I got dressed. I was still too sleepy to talk in the morning of the car ride and once I was awake enough, Dad decided to ask about school and The Music Man. We were driving almost straight south and I started to get an idea of where we were going the farther we went. When we crossed into Florida, I wondered what exactly Dad was taking me to see that would require nice clothes. For all I knew, he was taking me to the funerals of two serial killers.

We checked into a hotel sometime in the late afternoon, both of us too tired from the long ride to do much besides lay down to sleep or read until dinner. When it was time for wherever we were going, I changed into a long, tan colored skirt, a white tank top, and a dark brown sweater with my bronze ballet flats. Dad had on his usual dress pants and collared, button down shirt, gray and charcoal colored. He took me out to dinner and we still didn't talk about why we were in Florida, but he did tell me more about my brother, Stephen who was living in Philadelphia and working as a photographer.

I was still confused as Dad then drove us to a recital hall and led me inside to where a concert was obviously taking place. According to the program I was handed, it was a recital for cellist Byron Sheffield who was only a few years older than I was. The guy was really talented and headed for Juilliard. Dad and I sat and listened to the gorgeous music until the end without saying a word.

It was late when we got back to the hotel room, so I just went straight to bed and Dad did the same. I was waiting for some kind of explanation over breakfast the next morning, but when it didn't come, I asked again once we were on the road, "Now will you tell me what all of this was about?"

"You read that Jacob and Sarah Jean killed thirteen girls and that Sarah Jean killed their son?" Dad asked me first.

"Yes. That's why I want to know how a mother could kill her own son."

"Sarah Jean did not help her husband kill those girls," Dad told me. "She was completely innocent."

I thought about that for a moment and just felt more confused. "But she still killed her son."

"That's what she wanted everyone to believe, including Jacob, to keep her son safe."

And then I got even more confused. "But, if she didn't help kill any of those girls and she didn't kill her son, then why didn't she say so? And how would lying about it keep her son safe? And if you knew that she was innocent of everything, then why did you let her die? And what does any of this have to do with driving me to Florida to some guy's cello concert?" I was almost shouting by the end of this, confused, angry, and I don't know what else.

"If Jacob thought his son was dead, he couldn't hurt him," Dad explained. "And he would have at some point. I tried to stop the execution, but she asked me not to. She said she was prepared to die so that her son would be safe forever and for the sake of the victims' families."

"So if Riley wasn't killed, what happened to him?" I asked, trying to control myself.

"Sarah Jean gave him up to people she knew who wanted to adopt. They've kept that secret for fifteen years, also to protect him so that even he doesn't know who his biological parents were."

"Why can't he know?"

"How would you feel if you knew that your father was a serial killer?" Dad asked me. "Would that change how you felt about who you are?"

"Yeah," I admitted. "So, what about the concert last night?"

"That boy was Riley Dawes."

I don't think I spoke for hours after that revelation. Dad and I finished the drive in silence while I thought about what I had learned and Dad thought about what, I don't know.

I suddenly couldn't imagine what it would be like to grow up with a set of parents, never knowing that your actual father was a serial killer and your actual mother had sent you away to save your life and to save you from a life of infamy and fear. I knew what it was like to be whispered about because of a parent, and Dad was one of the good guys. Part of me wanted Dad to turn the car around so I could track down Byron Sheffield to tell him his real name and tell him what his mom had done for him. But, I guess that would defeat the purpose in what Sarah Jean had done, giving her son a life he couldn't have had before.

I gave Dad a hug and a kiss when he dropped me off at home and then did the same for Mom when I found her inside. I went to my room and took out a candle, lighting it with the matches I had hidden.

Dad hadn't said, but I figured the rest of his team knew about the truth, too. The rest of the world would forever believe that Sarah Jean Dawes had helped her husband murder thirteen girls and had murdered her son. Byron Sheffield would always believe he was Byron Sheffield, probably going on to have a successful musical career as a cello prodigy.

But I knew the truth, too. I knew that Sarah Jean was innocent and had sacrificed her life for her son, paying for her husband's crimes. I knew, Dad knew, the team knew, and I just hoped that that was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of the first episodes I knew I was going to write when I came up with Rachel's character. And I believe it's still one of the most powerful episodes of the series and I'm not even a huge fan of Gideon. I don't know, it's just always stuck with me.


	14. Beethoven

Related episode: 1.15 Unfinished Business, 1.18 Someone Is Watching

Ludwig von Beethoven- a noted composer who bridges the Classical and Romantic eras of music, he is most well known for his nine symphonies and continuing to compose even after going deaf

If there's one thing in common for both my parents' careers, besides the fact that there are lots of things they can't talk about, it's that I'm always being introduced to people who know me through pictures when I don't know them at all. There are doctors and nurses that work with Mom, even some of the patients at the treatment center that will know that I had a hard test one week and ask me about it. There aren't that many instances from Dad's side of things, but then came the weekend Dad went to a book signing for a former colleague and ended up calling the rest of the team in when the serial killer who was the subject of the book struck again, picking up where he left off.

I just knew that instead of being picked up by Dad that Friday night after pit band rehearsal like was supposed to happen, I ended up being driven home by Mrs. Burke. Dad had sent a text explaining what was going on and Mom had sent one of her own saying she was running late. I got home, fed Hannah, and ordered a pizza with the money that Mom left in a desk drawer for nights like this.

By the time the pizza got there, being Friday night and all, Mom had come home mostly wiped out from her day. We ate on the couch, watching whatever TV was on that night.

"So, who was this guy again, with the book about the serial killer?" I asked after we had finished.

"Max Ryan," Mom answered. "He helped start the BAU with your father all those years ago, but he's been retired for years, even before we moved here."

"Do all profilers end up writing books about the serial killers they chased or caught?" I asked pointedly. I knew that Dad had some books of his own published and there was some other profiler he'd worked with that was also writing books.

Mom smiled. "Seems like it, doesn't it?"

I rolled my eyes.

Saturday I slept in and then helped Mom with the laundry and house cleaning. We didn't hear from Dad until late Sunday night that they had caught the killer and were coming home. Then, I didn't see him until Monday after school when he came to pick me up. We didn't have practice that day so I was outside talking with Mark as Alicia had already been picked up by her mom.

"So, what's it like in the pit?" he asked me.

I shrugged. "Not that different from playing pit in middle school. The music isn't that much more difficult but the others are a lot better than I am." I didn't tell him about how a lot of the other members weren't exactly welcoming.

Mark grinned and put his arm around me. I felt a tiny little thrill go through me as always. "I'm sure you're every bit as good as they are. I mean, you got in, didn't you?"

"Thanks, Mark."

"Isn't that your dad there?" Mark asked, pointed at the large, dark SUV.

I looked and saw that it was, but that there was another man sitting in the front passenger seat. I guessed it was the infamous Max Ryan.

"Yeah, it is," I said to Mark. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Sure thing."

With Dad right there, we just held hands and squeezed, but it's not like we had kissed already anyway. I walked away and got into the back seat of the SUV with my back pack and flute case beside me.

"Hi, Dad."

"Rachel, this is Max Ryan who used to be a profiler with the BAU," Dad said, looking back at me. "Max, my daughter, Rachel."

The older man reached back, offering me his hand to shake. "Hi, Rachel. You've certainly grown up from the pictures your dad would bring into the office when you were a baby."

I've lost count of how many times I've heard a variation of that in my life.

"Nice to meet you," I responded politely.

"I need to drop Max off at the airport before I take you home," Dad explained.

"That's fine."

The ride to Dulles then passed with Ryan asking me about school like all adults do, though he knew nothing about music so he just nodded after a certain point unlike Hotch who had been able to keep up when I talked about musicals. I certainly wasn't going to talk about Mark with him, let alone my dad. After that, it seemed that Dad was okay with the two of them talking about the current BAU team members that Ryan had worked with over the weekend.

I only knew and had met Hotch and Reid. I knew there was a woman who was their technician or something that I learned was named Penelope Garcia. Dad did share the story about how when he was on crutches he had to stay behind in her office to work. What I didn't know was that Dad had actually exercised gratitude by buying her an MP3 player, but since Hotch didn't know about it, he had sent her flowers in Dad's name. That made me giggle.

Reid had already mentioned Elle to me earlier in the year and I found out that there was another profiler named Morgan and that the team had a media liaison nicknamed JJ. While Dad and Ryan were talking, I got the impression that Ryan wasn't so sure about the team and how they worked.

I got out of the car with Dad and Ryan once we got to the domestic terminal so that I could move to the front seat. Dad and Ryan shook hands good bye and then Ryan was gone into the air port with his suitcase.

"All right, now we can go home," Dad said as we got back on the road. "So, how is school, really?"

I gave Dad more details now that it was just the two of us.

"And what did you think of Max?" Dad asked.

I wasn't sure why he was asking and I wasn't sure how honest he wanted me to be, but I decided to go for it. "I thought that he didn't think much of the team. I don't think he said one really nice thing about any of them."

Dad nodded slightly. "When Max and I and some others first formed the BAU, there weren't enough of us to have multiple teams like we do now. Max is used to working on his own, not with a team like we've become."

"And maybe he just thinks that because the rest of them are all younger than he is, he still knows more," I guessed.

Dad smiled. "That's probably part of it, too."

"Well, why don't you feel that way if you've been doing it as long as he has?" I asked. "You don't act that way about Hotch and Reid and the others, do you?"

"Oh, maybe they think I do sometimes," Dad said. "But I was an agent as these changes were happening. I didn't leave and then come back to find almost everything has changed."

I was thinking about that still almost a month later.

"So little freshie, still keeping up with the big boys?"

This wasn't the first time I had heard such a comment. Really, it's like all the other members of the pit felt the need to point out what a fluke it was that I had joined their ranks. Some got over it, some just flat out ignored me, and others felt the need to still push my buttons.

Unfortunately, the tenor saxophone player currently trying to get a rise out of me was Mark's older brother, Josh, who was a senior. I was pretty sure that Josh knew that Mark and I were sort of going out, and apparently he felt the need to pick on me because of it in addition to my younger years.

"Too bad you're not a reed instrument," Josh went on. "Then you could finger, blow, and suck."

One thing was certain, I was getting a broad education on musical, sexual innuendo.

"Josh, go practice your sucking for your boyfriends," Sophia Carson broke in. "We all know you can't handle a real woman."

Josh smirked at me and glared at Sophia, but left us alone. Sophia was one of the members on my side, or at least she kept the worst of the offenders from bothering me too much. She was our pianist who also played the keyboard for any of the sounds we couldn't replicate with our instruments.

"Pay no attention to him" Sophia said to me. "He's an ass."

"It's fine," I answered, standing from my chair once my flute was packed away and my music safe in its folder. "Thanks."

"Atta girl."

We had just finished our first Saturday rehearsal for the musical as tech week drew closer and closer, about a month away. I had been playing with the pit band for a few weeks already and found that the music wasn't much more of a challenge than usual and Mr. Rose was as supportive as always. And really, if Josh weren't being such a jerk, it would be a great experience. And I hadn't told Mark that his brother was one of the worst offenders for the negative or harassing attitudes from several pit members.

Sophia waited for me to stand up and get to her before slipping an arm around my shoulders. Unfortunately, when she did, her music slipped out of her hands and went flying over the floor. She cursed under her breath and I bent down with her to pick it all up. In addition to her music, I found a tabloid magazine with a familiar face.

"What's this?" I asked, staring at the front cover.

"Oh, don't you know Lila Archer?" Sophia asked. "She's my favorite character. I don't know who that guy is, no one does."

Maybe, if I hadn't been so surprised, I would have told her who it was because the only other logical explanation was a doppelganger. I handed the magazine back and then followed Sophia outside the auditorium.

Outside was sunny and bright and I looked around the parking lot for Mom's car. To my surprise, I saw Reid's land yacht again and figured he had to be there for me. I darted across the parking lot and slid into the shot gun seat with my flute and music in my lap.

"Hey, Rachel, how was practice?" he asked.

"Fine," I answered. Even though I knew Reid was no where close to a typical guy, he was close enough in age that I asked, "Reid, why are some high school guys idiots?"

Reid looked over from the road where he was pulling onto the highway and stared at me in shock. "Rachel, I was twelve when I graduated high school. Are you sure you want to ask me?"

"Well, since you were younger than your classmates like I'm younger than the other pit band members, yeah, that's why I asked."

Reid sighed. "Well, do you want the biological, socio-economical, or psychological rationale?"

I thought for a moment. "Never mind. So, can I ask why you're picking me up instead of Mom? I know that Dad's visiting Stephen and trying to patch things up there."

"Your mom got called in for a new patient," Reid told me. "There was an incorrect diagnosis and medication that needed to go through all the official channels."

I rolled my eyes. "Perfect."

I stared out the window for awhile, upset that I had been effectively abandoned by both of my parents and knowing that I was being childish for thinking so. I hadn't realized how much I was letting show until I noticed that Reid wasn't driving me home.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"The park, I thought we could use some fresh air," Reid said, but didn't explain it further until he was pulling into a parking lot for a local, public park.

Dad took me here sometimes, too. Sometimes when I was little, I would play on the jungle gym while he would watch. As I grew older, we would play on the chess tables. The tables were obviously set up for board games with the table tops inlaid with a black and white checker design. When Reid and I walked over, there were two older men already seated at one table with a battered chess set and another table had a pair of kids playing their own version of checkers.

We sat down and Reid set up his chess set, letting me be white as always.

"Sunshine gives you vitamin D with has a lot of health benefits," Reid answered after I moved my knight just in front of my pawns.

We played a few moves and I had to admit that it was really pleasant, sitting with the sun streaming in through the tree branches above us after being in the dark auditorium all morning. It was after he had claimed both of my bishops, five pawns, a rook, and a bishop that I tried to get him off his game. Just strategy, you know.

"Hey Reid, why are you on the cover of a tabloid with Lila Archer?"

I took his queen side bishop to add to my three pawns, knight, and both his rooks as Reid's jaw just about dropped open and he blushed. I probably had way too much fun making him blush, but it was rather easy.

"Uh, how do you know about that?" he asked, stammering just a little bit.

"I saw the magazine," I answered casually. "It looked like you got pretty close," I teased.

"What did your dad tell you about our trip to LA?" Reid asked, taking my queen which would make the rest of the game a whole lot more interesting and probably short lived.

"I know that you guys were giving a talk and then got called in on a case," I explained. "Was Lila involved somehow?"

"Yeah, there was another girl who was killing other people to help Lila's career," Reid said. "We didn't know it was a stalking case until Lila and her manager came in and told us."

"And the reason you and Lila got caught on camera being all lovey-dovey?" I asked with a smirk, managing to move my king to safer spot before his last bishop could check me.

The blush hadn't really gone away from Reid's face. "I was assigned to protect her and…we got a little close," he admitted, moving his queen to check me. "But it was mostly transference, I think, because she was scared and I was the one who was there to protect her," he hurried on.

I saved my king again and took a good look at Reid's face. "Was it transference on your part?" I asked.

"Um, Rachel, maybe you don't realize how little I've, uh, well, it's not often that I get to…"

"Reid," I interrupted. "I have no idea what I'm doing with boys. You're not that much older than me and I'm guessing that you haven't had a lot of chances to talk to girls outside of school and work."

"Um, yeah."

I shrugged and then tipped over my king when I saw Reid would have me in two moves anyway. "Do you think you'll get to see her again?"

"I don't know."

I set us up again when it seemed like neither of us wanted to go just then. My homework was done so I didn't have to worry about that and I figured I would be on my own for dinner that night.

"Did you kiss her?" I asked after our opening moves.

"Rachel! Don't you think that's a little personal?"

I looked up and tried not to grin at the scandalized look on Reid's face. But Mark and I hadn't kissed yet and I didn't count the quick and awkward pecks that happened in closets at junior high parties.

"Sorry," I said. "It's not like I have a lot of other people to ask about this kind of thing."

"What about your friends?" he asked, recovering enough to claim my king side knight.

"Alicia hasn't had a boyfriend yet, I can't ask Michael, and I'm not even sure if I have a boyfriend—" I broke off, wondering if I was telling him too much. And I worried about how much he would pass on to my dad who I knew wouldn't approve of my dating, let alone having a boyfriend.

"You didn't hear any of that," I added, winning a pawn.

"Nope," Reid agreed quickly.

Reid kicked my butt again, though I lasted fifteen minutes longer. I didn't bring up Lila Archer again and Reid didn't ask about my maybe boyfriend. He drove me home but didn't come in with me, saying he had an article to work on at his own apartment.

I made macaroni and cheese for dinner, finished my homework and practiced my three sets of music for band, orchestra, and pit band. Finally, I curled up in bed with Hannah purring contentedly in my lap as I read.

One thing I was beginning to realize, life felt complicated enough for me as it was. But it didn't appear to be any easier as I grew older or would ever be easier judging by what I saw with Reid and my parents. Reid was about ten years older than I was but he was still confused about love and romance—granted, maybe a lot of that was because he didn't get to figure out a lot when he was my age. And like with Max Ryan, it seemed there would always be people who can't accept new things or new people.

But I guess the point was that I got to figure it all out on my own which wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I chose Beethoven for the chapter title because of his bridging between the musical eras; two episodes, two distinct time periods, there you go.
> 
> I didn't think much of Max Ryan. I'm not sure we're supposed to as the audience. But Somebody's Watching is another of my favorite episodes from season one, and considering my other favorite and that they both kind of focus on the same character...gee, could that be saying something?


	15. Open Fifth

Related episode: 1.19 Machismo

Open Fifth: a triad without a third

I stood in front of my mirror, checking my appearance one last time, though it wasn't like anyone was going to see me really. And it wasn't like I could really dress up in the first place. The dress code for pit members was strict: all black, full length bottoms and shirts and nothing to catch the stage lights. Now, the girls had a few more options for our clothes, but Mr. Rose was still insistent that any skirts be at least knee length and paired with black tights or something similar. So, I did wear a skirt with my black leggings underneath and a black shirt with loose sleeves and black lace along the neckline. I treated myself to some eye make up but stuck to plain chap stick on my lips. Lipstick is not conducive to instrument playing for woodwinds and brass.

"Rachel, ready to go?" Mom called from upstairs. She had made sure that she had the night off for opening night but hadn't made any guarantees for the two other performances.

"Coming," I called back, grabbing my flute case and music folder. We had to leave soon to get me to the school by call time.

In the car ride over, I fingered the new necklace that had been given to me the day before. All the teachers involved in the musical had come together and bought mementos for all the students participating and performing this year. As the musical was The Music Man, they had settled on giving everyone a small silver charm that could be put on a bracelet or necklace chain. All the singers got either a treble or bass clef, depending on if they were a boy or girl. The kids who made up the various make up, lighting, sound, and running crews got a set of beamed eighth notes. Those of us in the pit got our own instruments. It was also offered to mount the charms on pins for any guy who felt that a bracelet or necklace was too girly.

"Dad said he was coming tonight, right?" I asked as we pulled up in the drop off lane of the school's parking lot by the auditorium.

"I know he was planning on it," Mom answered carefully.

All the way to the theatre and down into the pit, I figured that Mom was prophetic. After we had warmed up and were just waiting to start the overture, I stepped up on a chair to peek over the edge of the pit, searching for familiar faces. I found Mom somewhere in the middle section toward the back of the auditorium. I didn't see Dad.

I sighed in part resignation and part frustration as I hopped off the chair and replaced it in front of the stand that I shared with the other second flute. With Dad back working in the field, I should have figured that last year's attendance had been a fluke.

"Nervous?" Sophia asked quietly. I was the last one in my row, seated right next to the piano.

"No," I answered. "I just don't see my dad."

"Maybe he's running late?" she guessed.

"No," I repeated. "He probably got called in to work."

I had left my phone in my band room locker, another rule for all the performers and crew members. The director and Mr. Rose didn't want to chance a single cell phone ringing from us, though there wasn't a lot they could do about the audience members.

"There are two other nights, remember," Sophia reminded me with a smile.

"You're right."

I didn't feel like sharing with Sophia that Dad's cases could keep him away for days at a time, forcing him to miss all the performances.

Then Mr. Rose motioned for us to get ready and I got lost in running my scales and tricky measures one last time to make sure I had them. From the first notes of the overture to the last of the finale, I was too engaged to think again about Dad or where he was.

For my first experience with the musical in high school, it was fantastic. It was my first time playing in an actual auditorium and not the school gymnasium and the first time I've actually been down in a proper pit and not just off to the side of a temporary stage. I was still running on an adrenaline high as I made my way, laughing, with the other pit members as we went back to the band room to pack up and go home.

I came crashing down to earth again when I grabbed my phone. One voice mail and one text message were waiting for me. I went with the voice mail first.

"Rachel, it's Dad. I know that I promised I would be there tonight, but the team got called out to Mexico. There might be a serial killer there and their police isn't set up to deal with one. I don't know how long this case will take, so I might not be back in time for the other two nights either. I'm sorry, Rae. I'll make it up to you when I get back. Good luck, sweetie, and I love you."

The text was along the same lines. P.S. Hotch and Reid wish you luck, too.

I huffed out my breath and thought about throwing my phone against a wall. A few things stayed with me, like that there only 'might' be a serial killer and that he 'might' not be back in time to see even one of the three shows. And a really petty part of me was annoyed that Dad didn't even know to say 'break a leg' instead of 'good luck' even though I knew the superstition was more for the actors than the musicians.

I found Mom in the throngs of waiting parents and other relatives greeting their children. She took one look at my face and pulled me in tight for a hug. "Dad called you, didn't he."

"Voice mail," I answered, sighing into her shoulder. "He probably won't make it back in time."

Mom pulled away and took another look at my face before hugging me again. "I thought it was wonderful, sweetie."

There wasn't anything else left to say that would help or hadn't been said before in my life. Dad didn't want to miss out on the events of my life. Dad couldn't help that his job called him out without notice a lot of the time. Mom would be there for me and I wasn't alone. Dad loved me very much but he was out saving someone or stopping a bad guy which was very important.

Sadly, I could recite all the excuses in my sleep. And now more than ever, I wondered why Dad had to go back to working in the field with the team when he could have stayed with that academy job. And even worse, I resented the innocent people that needed help for taking my dad away from me.

The next day at school, we got a round of applause during band for a good performance. I tried to summon the will power to be happy, but I at least managed to keep from frowning.

"What's with you?" Alicia asked me at lunch, taking a hefty bite of her roast beef sandwich.

I picked at my soup and grilled cheese. "Dad's on a case," I answered. "He probably won't make it back in time to see the musical."

Alicia shrugged. "Well, that's happened before and you've never been so upset by it before."

I looked up at her and saw that she really didn't understand. I began to resent my friend her blissful existence and that both her parents were there the previous night even though she was only doing make up. I forced a slight smile and pretended like I was over my bad mood.

It wasn't until I was seated with Michael in the band room during out study hall that I felt like I could stop pretending. Mr. Rose and Mrs. Kessler had an arrangement with the study hall proctors that any music student could come study in the band room so that we could also practice our music if there wasn't a band or orchestra having class. Even then, we would just hole up in one of the practice rooms. Granted, a lot of the time we would just use the arrangement to go and socialize instead of study, but as long as we weren't too loud and books or music were out, we weren't stopped.

"You seem a little down today," Michael commented. "Are those upper classmen jerks still giving you problems?"

"No," I shook my head. "Dad's on a case in Mexico and he won't be back for a few days."

"Oh."

We were seated on the floor of a practice room with our history books on our laps. Michael had missed yesterday's class trying to work on a paper in English that was due the next day. Michael scooted closer to me until our shoulders and hips touched, or close to it because he was about five inches taller than me now. His arm came around my shoulders and I gratefully leaned into the embrace.

I didn't cry or anything, but it was so nice to have someone other than Mom understand at least a little bit what it was like.

After a little while, I sat up slightly and Michael withdrew his arm. "Who knows," he said. "Maybe your dad will buy you a cool souvenir from Mexico."

I cracked my first genuine smile since the night before. "You mean like 'My dad caught a serial killer in Mexico and all I got was this lousy tee shirt?'"

Michael smiled back. "I know I would think a gift like that would be cool."

I nudged him in the ribs and he faked a great deal of pain before we turned back to our text books.

The second's night performance went pretty much like the first except that this night's work Mom couldn't get out of so I had to ride with Alicia and Mrs. Burke. I came home and collapsed in bed, sleeping in the next Saturday morning. When I woke up, I took a shower and cleaned my room, a meowing Hannah complaining all the while.

For the last night, I was surprised when I spotted Haley Hotchner and another blonde woman sitting with Mom in the audience. But no Dad and no Hotch. I tried to not let it get to me.

Once again, I found Mom in the crush of parents as many of the actors and singers had come out in costume for pictures.

"Hi, sweetie," Mom said, giving me a hug. "That was wonderful, even better than the first night."

"Yes, Rachel, it was a very good performance," Haley agreed. "Rachel, this is my sister, Jessica."

"Nice to meet you," I said. "I'm glad you could come."

"Now, do you have anything else you need to do tonight?" Mom asked.

"We just have strike tomorrow at noon and the cast party after that," I answered.

Jessica and Haley exchanged smiles. "I loved cast parties at school," Jessica said.

I shrugged. "My first one."

"Well, excellent job tonight," Haley said. "We should get going to relieve the babysitter for Jack."

The sisters left and Mom drove me home.

"I know that you're disappointed that your dad couldn't be here," Mom said as we were walking into the house. "But you know that he would have been here if he could have."

"I know," I answered quietly. "It just sucks."

Mom didn't correct my language and just kissed me good night.

The next day, our part of striking the set was clearing out the chairs, stands, and large instruments from the pit and putting them back into the band room closets. It went fairly quick and at the end, I found myself wheeling the upright piano with Sophia.

"Well, newbie, you survived," Sophia grunted as we heaved the piano up the ramp out of the pit. "What did you think?"

"Not bad," I huffed back. "I'm wondering why all the strong guys just took chairs and stands, leaving us to haul the piano."

Sophia barked out a laugh. "Yeah. I wondered that last year myself. And I'll probably still be wondering about it next year." She cast a look in my direction over the piano. "So, did your dad ever come?"

"No," I replied. "He's still away at work."

"Huh. Your dad's an FBI agent, right?"

"Yeah. Right now he's chasing a serial killer in Mexico."

Sophia whistled. "Whoa, that's intense."

"You could say that."

When we were finished, I followed Sophia to the gymnasium where the booster club parents had set up our cast party. I found Alicia, Mark, and a few others who had been working on the crews, joining them in line to get pizza and pop. With the musical done, we only had our spring concert to work on musically and we still had half the semester to go before finals so the atmosphere was very up beat.

I was going up for a brownie when I felt my phone ring more than I heard it. I pulled it out and stared for a second before hurrying outside to answer it.

"Hi, Dad."

"Hi, Rae. How did it all go?"

"Fine. I'm at the cast party right now."

"We just landed and I thought maybe I could pick you up. I could be there in about an hour."

I thought for a long moment. The party was set to end in an hour and a half so it's not like I would be missing much but I was still pissed off.

"Rae, are you still there?"

"Yeah, I'm here, Dad. Sure you can pick me up, we're in the gym."

"Okay, I'll call your mom and tell her. I'll see you soon."

"Bye."

I was a little distracted for the rest of the party and eventually I just said good bye to my group of friends, saying I was going to wait outside for my dad. Mark followed me.

"I can't imagine how cool it must be to have an FBI dad," Mark said as we sat on a bench so close we were almost touching and holding hands.

I've always been annoyed by people who tell me my dad's job is cool.

"I can wait on my own," I told Mark. "My dad actually won't be too happy if he sees you. He doesn't want me to date or hang out with boys still."

Was I an awful person for saying that? I'm not sure. But I didn't want to wait around for my dad when I was upset with him and hear about how cool it must be to be his daughter at the same time.

Mark either didn't pick up on the tension or he was really good at ignoring it. "Okay," he said. "I'll see tomorrow."

He kissed my cheek and left me alone. Luckily, Dad showed up about twenty minutes later. He parked the SUV and got out, coming over to the bench. Without a word, Dad pulled me into a tight hug while I stood still in his arms. It wasn't his hug when he wanted to remind himself that I was safe and alive, this was different.

"I'm sorry, Rae. I'm sorry that I missed the musical and I'm sorry that you have to put up with me leaving so frequently and with so little warning. I'm sorry."

He held on and eventually, I hugged back. When we pulled away, I asked, "Did you at least catch the guy?"

"More or less," Dad answered and his face closed off. I decided that I didn't need to know a more detailed answer.

In the car, Dad handed me a small, wrapped box. "We didn't exactly have time to sight see, but I saw this on our way to the airport."

Inside the box was a silver cuff bracelet with black engravings shaped like birds. Each bird had a tiny speck of turquoise for its eye. It was beautiful.

"I love you, Rachel."

"I love you, too, Dad."


	16. Symphonie Fantastique

Related episode: 1.22 The Fisher King Part I, 2.1 The Fisher King Part II

Symphonie Fantastique-one of the most iconic representatives of program music, composed by Hector Berlioz depicting his imaginary dream sequence of falling in love and supernatural events

I almost danced out of school in happiness and relief with a touch of adrenalin mixed in. The sun was shining, fluffy white clouds were in the sky and there was a light breeze that brought in the smells of the early summer flowers in bloom. And, I had just finished my second semester finals.

Alicia next to me did not share my enthusiasm. Math had been our final exam subject today and going into it, she was positive she was going to flunk.

"It couldn't have been that bad," I said, draping my arm around her shoulders. Her exam room had been down the hall from mine so I had waited for her to come out, knowing it might be a little rough.

"I swear I didn't remember half the equations I needed," she complained glumly. "I'll be in summer school, I know it."

"Or maybe your parents will finally let you take an easier math class for next year," I pointed out. Mr. and Mrs. Burke meant well, but Alicia was their second child and her older sister was very good at school. They expected Alicia to be the same.

"I know I'll be hearing about it at dinner tonight," Alicia muttered. She glanced at me sideways. "And you're off to the woods tonight for two weeks, aren't you?"

"I'm actually looking forward to it," I replied, just a little defensive. Dad had somehow managed to get a two weeks' vacation for himself and the rest of the BAU team. It was the first time in about five years that this had happened and he had invited Mom and me out to his cabin for some much needed rest and relaxation.

Mom had only managed to get a week off from the cancer center, but it was something. She had to work late tonight so Dad and I were driving up as soon as he was free to have dinner waiting for her.

"What will you even be doing there?" Alicia asked.

"Reading, sleeping, hiking, watch movies," I rattled off. I know it doesn't sound all that interesting, but with Mom and Dad as busy as they are with work, it's pretty much all they want to do when given the time off.

Alicia shrugged. "Whatever. Just call me as soon as you're back so we can hit the pool and the mall."

I agreed and we parted ways for our lockers. I had cleaned mine out the day before so all I had to pack up was my algebra text and notebook and the little whiteboard I kept on the inside of the door to write notes for myself. The only thing still written on there was my schedule for finals which I happily took the time to erase before slipping it into my back pack.

I turned away after closing the locker with a satisfying thud and walked straight into Michael.

"Oomph, sorry, I didn't see you there," I apologized as he reached out to steady me from falling.

"I'm sneaky like that," he said with a smile. "Algebra go okay?"

"Yeah, as well as can be expected."

I wasn't bad at math but it wasn't my favorite subject. I wasn't worried about my grade on the final or the class because I had had Reid to tutor me again.

"What about you?" I asked.

"I know I scored high on the final so that should bring my overall grade up to a B+ or maybe a B," Michael answered. His GPA was much lower than it should be, but with his attendance, it's as high as he could get it with test scores. Michael actually relied on teachers weighing the final exam heavily to raise his grades.

"Will you be free at all this summer at all?" I asked.

"Len is letting me load up on hours now that school's out," Michael said. I knew that Len was the owner of the auto shop where Michael worked. Len even paid him under the table. "Maybe I won't have to skip as much school next year."

"I'll give you a call when I get back from my dad's cabin," I told him.

"No, I'll call you," he responded quickly.

"Okay," I said carefully. "I'll be back in two weeks."

"Talk to you then."

Michael left before I could say anything else. We had become fast friends, but he was still very much a loner. I shook my head and then walked down a floor to Alicia's locker. She hadn't cleaned out her locker the day before and was struggling to fit all her textbooks, notebooks, and locker detritus into her backpack and a cardboard box.

I helped out and then carried the box as we walked outside to meet her mom. Math had been our only final today so it wasn't even noon yet. Mrs. Burke dropped me off at home where I gave my bags a final check to make sure that I had everything I would need for the next two weeks. Mom was only staying for the one, but convinced me to stay for both weeks.

I had comfortable clothes, pajamas, basic toiletries, books and my iPod all packed and ready to go when Dad arrived. I was even taking a break from music and was going to leave my flute at home. I gave Hannah one last kiss—Mrs. Rectoris would take care of her while we were gone—and raced out to the car.

"Did your last final go well?" Dad asked, getting on the interstate. He told me that he kept his cabin so that he would have a refuge from the city and from the FBI. It was another reason why his apartment in the city was so small compared to what he could afford.

"Yep," I answered. "Any test after Reid's tutoring is a breeze."

Dad laughed and continued to drive. We made it to the cabin just as the sun was beginning to set and brought in our bags and the groceries we had picked up on our way. The cabin had three bedrooms that were small but comfy. I knew Mom would want the west facing room so she could sleep in so I took the east bedroom and Dad took the north bedroom which was closest to the front door.

When I came out after unpacking, I found Dad had already cranked up the stereo and was putting away groceries.

"Pot roast or pasta tonight, Rae?" Dad asked, putting the milk on the counter with the other refrigerator items.

"Pasta," I said. "We got that loaf of bread for garlic bread, too."

"Excellent idea."

Dad and I moved around the kitchen without bumping into each other at all. Once everything was put away except what we would be cooking tonight, we got to work. Dad cut up onions, carrots, tomatoes, and celery for Bolognese sauce while I spread butter, garlic powder and paprika on the Italian loaf before wrapping it in tinfoil. In between tasks, we would dance to the music, laughing as Dad would spin me around under his arm or dip me to the floor.

I always tried to hold on to these moments, when it seemed like absolutely nothing could wrong and I was just a normal teenager hanging out with her dad and making dinner.

Just I was breaking the spaghetti and putting it in the salted, boiling water, an alarm chimed somewhere in the kitchen. I looked around and saw that Dad had opened the cupboard that housed his surveillance system for the cabin's security. On one of the TV screens, I recognized Mom's dark green Suburban coming up the long drive.

"Set the table, will you, Rae?" Dad asked. "I'll help Mom bring her things in and watch the sauce."

"Got it."

I found candlestick holders next to the plates and napkins and decided to set those out. Candles were in another drawer and cutlery in another. I didn't bother with a tablecloth and just set out placemats. Mom came in, Dad following with her suitcase. She kissed my cheek, gave me a hug, and asked about my math final while Dad took her suitcase to her bedroom.

"It smells wonderful," Mom commented, loud enough for both Dad and I to hear. "I'll just go clean up and we can eat."

Dad came back and gave me matches to light the candles while he put the final touches on the pasta and took the bread out of the oven. I was coming back to the kitchen as Dad was removing the cork from a bottle of wine.

I decided to push my luck. "Can I have a taste?"

Dad looked at me long and hard before nodding. "Just a small glass though."

I smiled. "I love you, Dad."

Dad quirked a slightly sardonic smile. "I'm sure you do.'

I kissed his cheek. "And you love me, I know it."

Dad's smile became more genuine. "Yes, I do. Very much."

Mom came out before we could get too sappy, saving the day. When we sat down, she didn't even comment on the wine in my glass. We took our time over dinner and talked about anything besides school and work. We all really needed this vacation. We had a fruit tart for dessert and Mom cleaned up since Dad and I cooked.

We were playing Trivial Pursuit late into the night, though each of us was getting sleepy, when the same alarm chimed from the kitchen. Dad got to his feet quickly to get to the monitors as Mom looked up sharply. I looked back and forth between them, confused. I could see a truck driving down the drive on the one screen once Dad moved out of the way. That was when I noticed he had a gun in his hand.

"Jason—" Mom said.

"No one should be coming here," he replied. "Take Rachel into your room right now."

Mom grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet before I could get a word in. "What's going on?" I asked once Mom had closed the bedroom door.

"I don't know," Mom answered, tense. "We'll wait for your father."

I'm really bad at waiting sometimes, especially I want to know what's happening. I cracked open the door and watched Dad talk to some delivery man and accept a box. Once Dad had shut the door and moved to the dinner table, Mom let me open the door and we walked out to join him.

"What is that?" I asked, coming up beside him.

"I don't know."

There was an envelope on top of a cardboard box about a foot and half squared in dimensions. Dad opened the envelope first, taking out a baseball card of all things.

"Jason?" Mom asked.

"It's Nellie Fox," he answered, almost more to himself than really answering Mom.

Dad set it aside and grabbed a knife to open the box. Inside, there was something vaguely round, red, and wet, covered in clear plastic. Mom gasped and when I smelled something faintly metallic and salty-sweet at the same time, I looked closer. It wasn't until Mom seized my shoulders and turned me away that I realized I had been staring at a human head.

I went hot and cold at the same time, trying to catch breath that seemed to come too slowly. By now I could recognize the early signs of my panic attacks. Mom could, too, and she hauled me over to the couch where we had been playing only minutes ago but it felt like years.

"Breathe, Rachel. Breathe. Jason, help me."

I sucked in air, trying to breathe deeply and evenly to offset hyperventilating. Dad knelt in front of me and placed his hands on either side of my face, staring deep into my eyes.

"Easy there. It's all right. You're all right."

I nodded shakily, calming down little by little.

"Sarah, I want you to get your bags and Rachel's and load them into my car," Dad said without looking away from me.

When she was gone, I took in another deep breath. "I'm okay, Dad. I'm better."

Dad nodded and stood up, pulling out his phone. I sat still as he made several calls, calling in the local police and FBI agents from the closest office. Then he sat next to me, waiting for them all to arrive.

"This wasn't supposed to happen," Dad muttered. I was surprised that he almost sounded like me whenever I would complain about him missing something due to a case. That scared me just as much as the head in the box.

I lost track of time as uniformed officers came into the cabin and agents in plain clothes arrived as well. Dad handled talking to them all and I eventually fell asleep on the couch, leaning against Mom.

The sun was streaming through the windows when Mom shook me awake. All the same people were there, but Dad was handing off the box to some other man and gesturing to Mom and me.

"What's going on?" I asked, rubbing my eyes.

"I'll drive you home," Dad said, leading me with a hand around my shoulders.

"But what's going on?" I repeated a little louder.

"I don't know."

Actually, that probably scared me most of all.

I feel asleep in the car since I had only slept for about five hours the night before. I was still half-asleep when Mom led me into the house, Dad following with our suitcases. Dad then followed me down to my room.

"So much for vacation," I grumbled, flopping onto my bed.

"I'm sorry, Rae. I need to go figure this out," Dad said, sitting next to me.

"Has anything like this ever happened before?" I asked.

"No."

I sat up and gave Dad a quick hug. "Go get him."

Dad smiled and patted my cheek. "Okay."

When he was gone, I flopped back down and Hannah came out of hiding to leap up on the bed next to me. I cuddled her closely, suddenly flashing on the image of a severed head. I didn't feel like sleeping anymore, certain any dreams would be haunted. I went upstairs and found Mom at the kitchen island counter with her head in her hands.

"Mom?"

She looked up and I could see how tired she was. For all I knew, she hadn't slept yet at all.

"Oh, Rachel."

I went over and burrowed in my mother's arms, blocking away the bad images.

"I never wanted you to see anything like that," she whispered in my ear. "Never. I'm so sorry."

"Not your fault," I muttered. When I pulled away, I could see the pain in her eyes. I know Mom has to have seen someone dead before, being a doctor, but, "Is that the first time you've seen something like that before?"

Mom sighed and tucked my hair behind my ears. She waited a long moment before responding. "Once, I went to your father's apartment while you were at a sleepover. He had a present for you next birthday that he wanted to give me in case he missed your party. He had forgotten that I was coming over and didn't have time to hide some pictures he had out on his table. They were like that."

We hugged again and I tried not to shake. Mom eventually went to lie down and get some sleep. Needing something to do, I hunted around the kitchen for something to make. Mom had cleared out the fridge so that nothing would go bad while we were gone so there wasn't much to work with.

I ended up making raisin scones, but they weren't complicated enough to keep my attention for long. I grabbed one of Mom's cookbooks and found a recipe for biscotti which seemed like it would keep me occupied for awhile. I found some chocolate chips and hazelnuts in the freezer. Eventually, I stopped seeing the severed and bloody head anytime I closed my eyes.

When the last batch was in the oven, I looked around for more to do and decided to fix dinner early. We had everything we needed in the pantry and freezer for tuna noodle casserole. By then, Mom had woken up, eating one of the warm scones with appreciation.

"Are you all right?" she asked while I dipped a biscotti into some hot chocolate that I had made.

I nodded. "I don't think I'll be telling anyone the exact reason why I'm back early, though."

Mom managed to smile. "That's probably best."

With our schedule all messed up from staying up late last night and sleeping for part of the day, Mom and I stuck to our original intention of lazing around and watching movies. Mom was grateful I had managed something for dinner and we ended up going to bed early. Mom promised to go grocery shopping the next day. She also said she would keep her vacation days, but I knew that as soon as the other doctors and nurses found out that she was home, they would end up calling her in for an emergency and she would go.

Yeah, both of my parents do that to me. It's a wonder that I don't develop a complex from it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Penultimate chapter, folks (that's fancy talk for second to last). This finale will be in two parts.
> 
> For this chapter, I wanted to show some light-hearted, family time to balance out what we all know is coming. Even with the little I've continued to write, it's getting harder to work those moments in. And it's certainly not going to get any easier, especially for this upcoming year. But, I persevere and I hope that you all are patient and watchful.


	17. Symphonie Fantastique, Part Two

The next day I was proven right as Mom said she was going in just to help someone with a difficult patient. I got permission to see if any of my friends were around. Alicia was unsurprised to hear the news.

"Figures your dad would up and leave for a case, even on vacation," she said. I told myself that I wasn't lying by saying that I was back early because a case had come up. I just didn't say there had been a severed head delivered to the cabin that got Dad on a case and not the usual phone call.

"Well, a bunch of us are at the park hanging out," Alicia went on.

"Great, I'll head out now. See you later."

I put on a red tank top, some jean shorts, and hiking boots. It was pretty warm, so I braided my hair out of the way. The park was a ten minute bike ride from my house and I knew we could end up hanging around for hours so I packed a back pack full of supplies. I put in some Vitamin water bottles, sunscreen, my wallet with some money, sunglasses and a button down white shirt if it turned cool. I had my phone in my pocket and I sent a text off to Mom telling her where I was going.

By the time I got there, Alicia, Mark, Liz Peterson, and about eight others were out in the open playing tackle Frisbee. It's kind of like football without the rules and positions and with a Frisbee. I set my bag and bike where the others had put their own and jumped right in. Alicia must have explained why I was there because no one asked.

I was just flinging the Frisbee over to Liz on my team to score when Mark came out of nowhere and tossed me over his shoulder. He kept his momentum and kept running, taking us away from the group and into a stand of trees that ringed the clearing.

"Mark! Mark!"

I wasn't sure if I was breathless still from the game, from trying to get Mark to put me down, or from laughing. I hit Mark's shoulders and back lightly, but I wasn't trying that hard. Once we were deep into the trees in the shade, he collapsed on the ground, taking me down with him. We got tangled together in a heap of arms and legs, laughing still.

"I wish I could have seen your face," Mark said, still catching his breath.

"Don't ever do that again," I complained in mock anger. By the twinkling of his eyes, Mark knew I wasn't serious.

"I couldn't think of any other way to get away without sounding lame," he explained, playing with some of the hair that had escaped my braid. We had ended up lying on our sides and facing each other, cradled between two tree roots that were soft with moss.

Suddenly, I realized that it was the first time Mark and I had ever been truly alone. I was doing a good job so far, burying what had happened the other night, but I wanted something to make me feel normal. I wanted to stop being the girl who had seen a bloody and severed head. Shyly, I reached out ran my hand over Mark's shoulder, even slipping it underneath the fabric of his sleeve to feel his slightly sweaty and still warm skin. Mark's hand mirrored my own and then moved up to my neck and around the back of my head. Slowly, so slowly it was hard to feel like we were moving, we leaned in closer until our noses touched.

The kiss, when it came, was gentle and hesitant at first. I wriggled even closer until we were flush against each other and Mark's hand tightened around my head. I brought my hand to his back, squeezing and almost lost my breath when his leg came over the top of mine, taking me captive.

We broke apart, gasping for breath, but remained connected every where else. Mark looked like he was about to say something, but I leaned in again, kissing with more confidence. When I felt Mark's tongue trace the seam of my mouth, I opened without thought, gasping now at the new sensation and texture.

I have no idea how much time passed and I don't know if we would have eventually stopped or taken things further. I do know that just as I was about to pull away to breathe again, my phone rang in my pocket, startling both of us into leaping apart.

Still certain I was going to die of oxygen loss, I pulled out my phone and groaned at the caller ID. "Crap. Crap, crap, crap." I whipped the phone open and put it to my ear, apologizing to Mark with my eyes. "Dad, what is it?"

"Rachel, are you at home?" Dad demanded. "What are you doing? You sound out of breath."

"I'm at the park, we're just running around," I explained. "Mom said it was okay."

"I need you to go home right away. I'll call your mother and you two are checking into a hotel room."

"Dad, what's going on?" I asked. "Did something happen with your case, what?"

"There's a man who hacked our computers and knows personal information about the team. I want you and your mom safe until we catch him."

"But, why can't we just stay at home? Why do we have to go to a hotel?"

"Rachel, one of my agents was shot in her home last night," Dad snapped, apparently out of patience explaining things to me. What little breath I had been able to regain I lost in shock. "He already knew the address of my cabin and I'm certain that your home address is somewhere in the records he hacked and I will not have you in danger. Now, get home immediately, lock the doors, and wait for your mother."

"Yeah, Dad, okay," I replied shakily. "I'm, I'm leaving now."

He hung up without another word.

"Rachel, is something wrong?" Mark asked after I pocketed my phone again.

"Um, I have to go," I replied, still a bit in a daze. "I think I'm going to be gone for a few days."

"Is everything okay?"

"No, I don't think so, but I'm hoping it will be."

Mark helped me to my feet and then picked out a handful of leaves and twigs that had lodged in my hair. Once I was somewhat presentable again, I apologized. "I'm sorry, but I really need to go. I'll call you when I can."

"Yeah, I just hope it's soon."

Mark kissed me one last time, a proper kiss this time on the lips instead of on the cheek like he used to. I kissed back and then tore away to race through the trees, through the clearing where the others were now lounging around on blankets, and to my bike. I shouted a hasty good bye and took off without another thought. I was pulling into my driveway when I realized that everyone had probably guessed Mark and I had gone off to make out. Then they saw me high tail it out of there. Damn, they probably thought I had run after my first kiss or make out session or whatever. Wait a minute, I did run after my first kiss and make out session.

This was all just too confusing.

Due to procrastination, I hadn't unpacked my suitcase yet which would now work in my favor. I sat in the living room, waiting for Mom, and realized that Dad had said an agent had been shot. An FBI agent had actually been shot in her home. The feminine pronoun kept me from panicking that Reid or Hotch had been the victim. But I remembered that there were two women on Dad's team.

I had thought to bring Mom's unpacked suitcase with me, so when she swept into the house, all we had to do was fly right out and into her car.

"What did your dad tell you?" Mom asked. I guess she was wondering how much she could tell me without pissing off Dad.

"He said that one of the agents had been shot in her home, their bad guy hacked their computers and probably knows where we live and that we're staying in a hotel until this is over," I rattled off.

Mom sighed. "All right, you pretty much know what I do then. Now, I'm actually going to drop you off at the hotel where Haley is staying with Jack and then I'm meeting your father at the hospital," Mom told me. "Elle is still in surgery and her doctors will be more inclined to share with another doctor."

"So what am I supposed to do?" I demanded.

"Whatever you were planning on doing at the cabin, only in the hotel," Mom answered grimly. "I called ahead and got the room next to Haley, so she'll be looking in on you. See if she needs any help with Jack. I don't know if I'll be there tonight or when I'll be there."

"I can't believe this," I muttered. My fear was quickly being replaced by anger and resentment. I wanted to still be at the cabin with both my parents, enjoying a getaway. I wanted to be with my friends, with Mark.

"Rachel, I don't have the time to deal with any teenaged rebellion right now," Mom snapped. I looked at her in shock. She hardly ever snapped at me like that. "I want you to stay in the hotel, leave a note if you're not in the room, and listen to what Haley says. Do you understand me?"

"Yes," I answered meekly.

We didn't say another word for the rest of the car ride. Mom parked in the hotel parking lot, checked us in and carried her own suitcase up to the room and then left. I sat on the bed for awhile, trying to process everything that had happened in the last five hours. And the last forty eight hours.

I almost jumped out of my skin when someone knocked on the door. I got up, looked through the peep hole and opened the door for Haley and Jack.

"Hi, Rachel. How are you doing?" Haley asked kindly. Jack gave me a gaping, toothless grin.

"I'm really not liking this," I answered honestly. I didn't say which part of all this mess I didn't like and Haley didn't ask.

"Well, I thought I would check out the hotel pool. Do you have a swim suit with you?" she offered with smile.

"Yeah, sure, I'll get changed."

"All right. I'll get Jack ready and we can meet in the hallway, okay?"

I nodded and closed the door behind her. I dug out my black and pink tankini swim suit and put my shorts back on over it, slipped into sandals, and grabbed a towel from the bathroom. Remembering my instructions, I wrote a note for Mom and put the time down to play it safe.

Haley had on some loose khaki capris and a breezy white blouse with a blue tank top underneath. She had a large bag slung over her shoulder and Jack in a onesie in her other arm. I offered to carry the bag but Haley said it was fine. We took the elevator down in silence and followed the hallway signs to the pool and exercise room.

No one else was there so Haley, Jack, and I had the run of the place. We claimed two long chairs to hold our things and then I jumped right in. The deepest end of the pool was ten feet which was fine by me. Haley just rolled up her capris further and sat on the edge with her feet and shins in the water, holding Jack so that he could kick his little feet in, too. After swimming a few laps and floating, I began to sink in the deepest part of the pool, testing how long I could hold my breath. If Haley was worried about me drowning, she wisely didn't mention it.

When I finally came up and started to dry off, Haley offered to order room service for dinner for us after I took a shower.

"Did my mom or dad ask you to babysit me?" I asked, squeezing the water out of my hair over the pool.

"No," Haley assured me. "But I was on my own last night and I'm glad for the company tonight."

"Okay." I reminded myself that I wasn't the only one to have their life completely turned inside out and insisted on carrying Haley's bag upstairs. In the shower, I reminded myself that I hadn't been shot and could die any minute. Luckily, the shower water washed away the traces of tears on my face from guilt and returned fear.

I changed into cotton shorts and another tank top, left a revised note for Mom and joined Haley in her room. Jack was asleep in a travel cot so we kept our conversation down.

"Why is all of this happening?" I asked at one point.

Haley paused between bites of braised chicken and I wondered if she would be like Dad and not tell me anything.

"I don't know," Haley said eventually. "Aaron didn't tell me much besides that he wanted us safe and that whatever man they're hunting knows where we all live."

I sighed and speared a piece of carrot. "Great."

Haley tried to smile. "I know it's frustrating, believe me."

I went back to the other room to watch TV so I wouldn't wake Jack. I fell asleep around eleven with no sign of Mom and no word from Dad. I dreamed of the trees and of Mark, I dreamed that we were still kissing until his head came off in my hands, bloody and separate.

I woke up gasping.

"Rachel?"

I looked around in the dark and saw Mom turn on the light above the other bed. She must have just gotten in since she was still in her clothes.

"Bad dream," I explained.

Mom frowned. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," I said firmly.

"All right. I was going to tell you in the morning, but they caught the man, or rather, they found him but he killed himself. We can go home tomorrow."

I sighed in relief. "What about the woman who was shot?" I asked. "Is she okay?"

Mom smiled. "Yeah. She made it out of surgery. It will take time to heal completely, but she'll be fine in a couple of months."

I sighed again in relief. A bad man was gone, Dad's agent would be okay, and I could go home and get back to my vacation and my life. I smiled as I fell asleep again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all for now. I'll start putting up the others in the series over the weekend. Thank you to anyone who has read and I hope that you have enjoyed.  
> Cantoris


End file.
